A Killer Romance
by Fauna
Summary: This is story is being workshopped and rejuvenated, with no change to the plot, just better style. Beware of chapter 18... its coming soon to a url near you!
1. A New Case

Ch. 1: The Case  
  
Clarice Starling brushed her fiery hair into a simply ponytail. There was no time for extravagance today. She had been assigned the hottest case the bureau had yet received. She added simple silver studs to her delicate ear lobes. Starling glanced at her reflection and caught herself smiling, the first real smile since she had last seen him. She was glad she finally had a case, a hot one at that. So long the bureau had pushed her aside, so long had she been forgotten. The paperwork she suffocated in after the Chesapeake incident left her disenheartened with the bureau. Crawford finally gave her the credit that should never have been taken away, with out apology for Starling's rejection. Her so-called love, the FBI, cast her aside for an alleged affair with a killer.  
  
Clarice finished her outfit with a light jean jacket and stepped outside with a   
sense of renewed passion. She was back on the case that made her famous, that of her only true confidant, Hannibal Lecter. Or so the bureau thought...  
  
Starling brushed into the office, straight to Crawford's for briefing on her new assignment. Though she was careful to avoid his eyes, Paul Krendler stopped her.  
  
"Where are you off to Starling?"  
  
"To see Crawford, if'll you'll excuse me..."  
  
With one sly move Krendler was upon her, trapping her against the wall. His hand slowly moved up the side of her thigh, migrating north toward her breast. "You know you're only on this case for media, Starling. You aren't an agent anymore. You're just common country p- - - - that Crawford keeps around to get off."  
  
Clarice held his glare. "If you don't mind Mr. Krendler, I have business to take care of."  
  
Krendler stepped away from Starling, but not before popping her on her backside. Starling hurriedly straightened herself and walked into Crawford's office.  
  
Crawford visably brightened when she entered his room. "Please Starling, sit. We have a good deal of information to cover in only 10 minutes."  
  
Though he tried hard to conceal his wandering eyes, Clarice saw how they wandered lazily over her endlessly well-shaped legs. He saw her eyes follow his own and decided he had better get his mind on the task at hand.  
  
"OK Starling, listen up. You were put on this case because we believe this is Lecter's handiwork, and you have experience with him. We have two victims so far: one teenage male and one adult female. The male was found in an alley on 15th Street one week ago. They guy who found him though the kid was sleeping until he shook his arm. When his coat fell open, Starling, his chest was revealed to be sunken. It had been opened and closed with the precision of a surgeon. His heart had been carefull removed and has yet to be found. We think it's Lector because though his chest was neat, his shoulder was torn apart. Forensics has the results stating human teeth as cause of shoulder wounds. Finally there was a word carved into said victim's back, the word "Je". We are, needless to say, confused, as Lecter has never carved or written anything on his victims before."  
  
"The next victim was found last night three alleys away from the boy. Her face was totally destroyed, so we IDed her with dentals. She layed out in a ... provocative position, Starling, but without signs of molestation. On her back, we found the word 't'aime'. Forensics put the pieces together and found out that 'Je t'aime' is french for 'I love you'. Starling, I don't mean to alarm you, but I think Lecter is trying to send you a message. I'm sure you remember your interlude in Chesapeake. After no contact with you for the past five years, he must be trying to lure you in again. That's why you are on this case. He will no doubt try to see you, and since he won't hurt you, this can be a quick capture. He will record all calls you receive, and if he makes contact, you will have backup at your disposal. Questions so far?"  
  
"No Mr. Crawford."  
  
"Good... Tomorrow you are flying to Paris, France, where some of our contacts will fill you in on information and sightings. I didn't tell you this Clarice, but Lecter has been seen in that area... Anyway, you have the rest of the day to pack and arrange your affairs."  
  
"Thank you Mr. Crawford. I'm glad to be on a case again."  
  
"No thanks needed Starling. We're all glad you're back."  
  
As Clarice left Crawford's office, she couldn't help but wonder if she ever left.  
  
****Author note! OK, I hope you guys enjoy this so far. I will have Ch. 2 up by the end of the week, so please review!!! 


	2. News Overseas

Ch. 2 News Far Away...  
  
Disclamer: Just so everyone knows, Hannibal, Krendler, Crawford, and Starling are property of Thomas Harris. I am simply borrowing them to bring a new idea to life.  
  
Quietly, Professor Johnathon Stone rose from his chair to get his daily paper. The gentleman who delivers his paper had been late everyday for the past two weeks, very rude indeed. The man would have it in his best interest not to be late another day. Professor Stone had very little tolerance for rude people... though their taste was simply exquisite.  
  
Johnathon Stone, a.k.a. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, unfolded his morning news in his small Chateau just south of Paris. How the good doctor loves to keep up on the news of the day, to always be aware of what happens around him. 'Ah,' thought Lecter, 'Perhaps Clarice has graced my paper with her presence today...'  
  
The headline on the first page brought on enough amusement to make the doctor forget his query: "Hannibal Strikes Again!"  
  
The good doctor laid down his cup of coffee on the end table to give this article his full attention. As he read the story of "his" recent murders, his amusement gave way to intrigued shock.  
  
"Terror lives in the hearts of Americans once again. The deranged sociopath, Dr. Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter has killed two people in the Washington area. Lecter, a psychologist, was incarcerated 15 years ago for the murders of several of his patients. While being relocated, Lecter escaped, killing police and civilians in his path. After he alluded capture from the American FBI five years ago, Lecter disappeared without a trace. Top agent Clarice Starling was assigned to this case years ago, and is now presiding again. Starling received recognition for her help with the "Buffalo Bill" murders and for her involvement with the Lecter case. Now, these two murders are a wake-up call to all those who dared forget the doctor's presence."  
  
Lecter ran his eyes over the front page again. There were pictures, he saw. One of him in his prison garb, not a very good likeness. A map of the murder points. And one picture of Agent Starling.  
  
Lecter let his eyes absorb Clarice's likeness. "My, Clarice, this picture doesn't do you justice..."  
  
Though Lecter knew he could spend the better part of his day staring at the fiery Clarice, he pulled his attention back to the article. These murders were certainly interesting, very peculiar indeed...  
  
Lecter rose from his chair and made his way to the back of the chateau. Slowly, savering each movement, he sat at his desk and opened the middle drawer. He laid before him heavy linen paper, his finest pen, and a sleek envelope. 'I believe,' pondered Lecter, 'that Clarice knows something she isn't telling...'  
  
And he began to write. 


	3. Memories Return

Ch. 3 Memories Return   
  
Clarice left the office trying her hardest to suppress defeat. Crawford was her mentor, her only friend in her fight against the bad guys. But even he had dismissed her...  
  
'Clarice, cut it out! Don't let him get to you, this is your chance to show them all how wrong they were, how very, very wrong...'  
  
As Clarice slid into her car, the beaten up jalopy that is was, she knew she had that same smile on her face again. The smile that told her, 'I'm in charge now.'  
  
Back at home.....  
  
Clarice walked through her door trying to find the ticket Crawford had given her for tomorrow's flight. 'Here it is...10:00 PM! Jesus...' Well, at least she had the whole next day to make sure she was ready.  
  
Clarice walked through her tiny apartment trying to find anything worth taking. Clothes, obviously, but anything of real value? She severely lacked in that department. No pictures with friends, except for Ardelia, who was in almost every picture she took since they met. No sweet mementos,no boyfriends to miss her, no children to miss her, no one but Ardie. And him... wherever he was.  
  
'Starling, snap out of it, he's history...'  
  
Oh, but he wasn't. The good doctor occupied every moment of her spare time. She tried to forget him, and was so close in succeeding. Damn him for knowing how much she cared. Damn her for never admiting it...  
  
Clarice decided she had time to spare. She called Ardie for some company, but she was busy with her husband and daughter. 'God,' thought Starling. 'How Ardie must pity me...'   
  
Since company was obviously not an option, a good movie was in order. The TV listings showed a line-up of must see TV. Starling always considered this must-see for those lacking of something better to do. Those with idle minds are either dangerous or ignorant...  
  
*Ignorant, Clarice? Something I despise, as it is a main factor of stupidy and rudeness...*  
  
Clarice snapped her head to the side. "Doctor Lecter? Hannibal?!"   
  
'Oh my god, I'm going insane...'  
  
*Hardly insane Clarice, but would it be so bad? Many people have claimed my actions as those of the truly insane, but, am I? Please, enlighten me...*  
  
"Oh God, stop it, please!" Clarice knew what was happening. Every time she allowed him to occupy her thoughts, he spoke to her. His voice vibrated her soul, shook her to her very core. Yet, she felt as if this was necessary, that if it ever stopped, she would have nothing left.  
  
Trying to make him stop, just for now, just for a moment of peace, she ran from her living room. She ran out the door, barely stopping to latch it. She ran, ran all the way down the street, to the next block, and soon, all the way to The Place. Oh, she hadn't meant to run here, but it happened. Instead of running from him, she ran into his open arm full of memories...  
  
^Flashback, 2 years earlier^  
  
Clarice walked leisurely through the neighborhood park. She needed to get away from her daily life, away from the constant barrage of paperwork the bureau shoved down her throat. It was wonderful here; full, lush trees, changing leaves, even a small pond. So secluded and intimate, just what was needed for a quick rest.  
  
As she walked, she saw a man in front of her. Why he caught her eye, she didn't know. Perhaps it was the stylish black trench coat he wore, or the slightly tilted Fedora. Or perhaps, it was that the moment she noticed him, the birds stopped chirping. The grasshoppers quit playing their songs, and the wind barely touched the trees. All was still, as if in a movie, played out in slow motion.   
  
Clarice stopped walking and watched the stranger. He walked but two more paces, and stood his ground. She didn't like this at all, she was alone in a secluded area with a strange man who appeared to be listening to her movements. As she turned to run back home, she heard the familiar words, "Hello, Clarice..."  
  
Quickly she spun around again to see him, to see the only one who could chill her very bones, yet melt her frozen heart. "Doctor... Is it you?"  
  
The good doctor turned to face Clarice with a look of wonder and satisfaction. "Who else, Clarice, would you expect to follow you to your secret park?"  
  
"How did you know I would go here Doctor? How did you get here?"  
  
"One at a time, if you don't mind. I confess Clarice, I have been watching you. Not long, agent Starling, don't look too surprised. I have watched you for the past five days, and I know your habits now better than you do. Don't worry, Clarice, I did not intrude on your private moments. A long hot bath, changing into your favorite night shirt. I am not a "peeping tom", so to speak. I am more like an avid bird watcher, wanting to see every bit of beauty from my hobby of interest. "  
  
"I don't understand what you're saying Doctor. I don't know why you are here. This is dangerous, for both of us." A quick glance to the side set the doctor off.  
  
"You do know Clarice, yes, you do." He began to walk toward Clarice, each step flowing and marvelous to see, like a painter creating a masterpiece stroke by stroke. "Look Clarice." He held out his hand, the one that met the fate of the butcher knife so long ago... "It's healed quite nicely, don't you think? I can hardly tell it had ever been cut off."  
  
"Doctor, this isn't safe..." Clarice began to tremble slightly, no matter how hard she tried to stay calm.  
  
The doctor was a mere foot from her face now. "Safe for who, Clarice? For you? For your precious job? Hardly, *Special *Agent Starling. You aren't an agent Clarice. You are more than that. You can hear the lambs. They don't. The constant bleating fills your soul, so much that it should explode instead of carrying so much pain. Do you think the bureau cares what happens to the lambs? To you? If I Evelda Drumgo had killed you years ago, a fate many officers on your side of the law have considered, their lives would have been much simpler. As for me Clarice, I cannot be imprisoned. Nothing can contain me. I always escape, sweet Starling, as you well know...."  
  
Dr. Lecter leaned over Clarice now, so close their bodies almost touched. He inhaled her hair deeply.  
  
"Ahh.... I remember this aroma. How wonderful to sample it again. What do you remember Clarice?"  
  
"I... I remember you, Doc-"  
  
"No Clarice, we are far beyond doctor and patient now. I have a first name, please, use it."  
  
She swallowed softly, maintaining his stare. "I remember you.... Hannibal."  
  
Hannibal looked at Clarice with a smile so soft that it brought tears to her eyes. "Yes, Clarice, you are correct. I, too, remember you. I remember the tears. Why did you cry our last night together? Why did you let the lone tear betray you?"  
  
Starling was no longer teary eyed, but instead trying to control the steady stream of pain that flowed from her. She was so close to him, she could see every detail of his smoothly shaved face. She was overwhelmed with his presence.  
  
"I don't... don't know. I was feeling too much."  
  
Closer still he leaned to her. Almost touched her lips with his own. "What did you feel Clarice? Tell me..."  
  
The doctor's sentence was cut short by Clarice's lips. She moved forward slightly, just enough to kiss him. She felt it again, the same emotions she felt at Chesapeake, but so much stronger. She kissed him harder, wanting to feel him with her. And he returned her advance.  
  
Hannibal and Clarice stood in the park, him leaned over her, meeting only at the lips. Clarice cried on, feeling her pain replaced by an unfamilar emotion. She carefully put her hand on her chest, not wanting to startle him or end this precious moment. Her hand was met by his own, sweetly enfolding her tiny palm in his own large one. Hannibal's passion was slowly unfolding in their kiss, which intensified as his free arm went around Clarice's waist.   
  
They kissed forever. They were together, and pure, and wonderful. This was not a serial killer cannibal and an FBI agent. This was man and woman at their finest: in love.  
  
Hannibal was the one to end their sweet embrace. He pulled back so slightly, that it seemed he had melted away from her. Clarice opened her eyes, her wet and puffy eyes, to see the only person she wanted... the only person she couldn't have.  
  
"My, my, Clarice. I don't remember that." Such a simple thing to say, it brought a smile to both their lips.   
  
"I don't either, but it was... wonderful."  
  
"I believe, my sweet Clarice, that we both know why I am here. I want only for spend the rest of time with you. I must ask you quickly, as our encounter has surely taken up much of our travel time: will you come with me?"  
  
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He meant it. He wanted her. He really did. And instead of sweet rejoicing, she cried in a fit of sorrow and rage.  
  
"I can't Hannibal... I can't..." Her sobbing became louder.  
  
The look on Hannibal's face was not easily readable, but unmistakeably disappointed. "Why? What holds you here?"  
  
"You are.. you are a murderer. How can I be with you, knowing that you have killed innocent people!" Clarice was near a breaking point, where her desperation and sorrow would drive her mad.  
  
Silence from the doctor. He watched her eyes, her struggle between good and evil. Between the *FBI and him. "Clarice, stop your tears." There was no malice in his voice, just a stern edge.  
  
And her tears stopped. She stared at him, wondering what she had just done.  
  
"I must leave now Clarice. Do not cry for me anymore, as this is not our last encounter. Cry only for your true love. Cry for the bureau, and what you will become if you stand by it." On that note, the doctor turned to walk away, as if she had merely asked him the time and he had fulfilled her inquiry.   
  
As Clarice stood, numbly glued to the spot, Hannibal faced her one final time.  
  
"No matter what the bureau tells you, what all the goodness in your world tells you, remember this. You know how I feel for you. Never doubt it. Adieu, sweet Clarice."  
  
And he was gone.  
  
^End Flashback^  
  
The tears were gone now. Clarice had nothing left inside of her to cry for. She was spent, emotionally and physically. She slowly turned and jogged home to her little apartment, where she awaited the dawning of the new day. 


	4. The Lamb Stops for No One

Disclamer: All Hannibal characters are property of Thomas Harris. I am borrowing them to bring a new idea to life.  
  
Dedicated to: Tara, because without her remarkable intellect and support, my own writings would not have been possible.  
  
A Note to readers: I am sure if you have read this far that you know that my story is based on the movie, not the novel. Ok, sorry for all the little notes, please read and review!!! ~Fauna  
  
Chapter 4: The Lamb Will Stop for No One...  
  
Clarice Starling awoke the next day much later than anticipated, and with a vicious hangover. As Clarice made herself some breakfast, she glanced at her kitchen clock. The movement of the clock hands were killing her head, which was drowning in pain from the entire bottle of corner store vodka she had consumed the night before. It was 12:30, six hours later than her normal awakening to the world. 'That's fine,' thought the disoriented Starling. 'I still have time to pack for Paris. Lots of time. I might even be able to take a nap... '  
  
After Clarice drank the majority of her breakfast, cup after cup of black coffee, she wandered back into her bedroom. As her head slowly cleared, she began to remember why she drank so much the night before. It was because of Hannibal. Once again, he invaded her mind. As this was a normal occurance, she couldn't help but be surprised at her reaction. Never before had Starling drunk herself into a stupor. Never before had she felt such longing, and such incredible loss. Well, she had felt it once, that one time, but even then her behavior was not so erratic. Last night was a true mystery of the human mind...  
  
Clarice rose from her bed and tried to think of what she needed to pack. She looked at her bedside clock to see that it was now 1:30, and she was going to run out of time to take care of all her packing. She briskly walked into the kitchen again with pen and paper in hand. She needed a list, she needed something solid to look at and help her organize her thoughts.  
  
Just as the fiery redhead sat down, she heard a knock. She went to her door and saw through her peephole that it was a Federal Express courier. 'FedEx? This must be some early information from Paris about Lecter...'  
  
Clarice opened the door to a young man with beady green eyes. His look of shock and appreciation woke Starling to the fact that she was standing in her doorway attired in only a short blue terry cloth robe. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Um, yeah..." said the courier. He held out a box addressed to agent Starling. "Special Agent Clare Starling?"  
  
"That's Clarice Starling. Where do I sign?" How Starling did hate when people mispronounced her name...  
  
"Here and here," stated the FedEx man, pointing at his clipboard. He promptly handed Clarice the package, but hesitated before walking back to his delivery truck.  
  
"I don't suppose there is a Mr. Starling..." A sly smile told Clarice that if she told him the truth, he would be most persistent about asking her out.  
  
"There is indeed. And he's gets positively crazy when I talk to other men." It sounded stupid to her ears, but it did the job. The man quickly walked to his truck with a discouraged look that only the young and horny wear.  
  
Laughing inwardly, Clarice wondered who she described to that young man, who she thought of as her husband. How odd that the first name entering her mind was that of the good doctor... Hannibal. 'Oh, please, move on with your life...'  
  
Clarice pulled apart the protective outer box and wrapping. Inside lay a lilac box. On top of the box lay a letter with copperplate script. Starling's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the writing and the sweet smell of raw ambrigrose and tennessee lavender wafting from her package.   
  
"Hannibal...."  
  
She carefully picked up her letter. Written on it was the familiar 'Clarice', that was written on all the letters she had received from him. Though her curiosity told her to open the box first, she kept her attention on the letter. She grabbed her letter opener and gingerly opened it. Her eyes drank in his writing...  
  
*Dearest Clarice~  
  
Hello newly instated Agent Starling. How time does fly, eh Clarice? Yes, it's been a while since my last letter. Forgive me, but I felt that you needed time to rediscover yourself after our last rendevous... Did you see that, Clarice? I felt... put that in my case file, that cannibals too understand emotions. I know you can feel Clarice. You so clearly stated that in 'our' park. You have simply yet to understand what you feel. I patiently await the day that you do...  
  
Now Agent Starling*  
  
Clarice could almost hear him hiss her titled name, agent...  
  
*Now Agent Starling, I anticipate that you know why I am writing you. Cast aside the obvious, Clarice, this is not about my affections for you. I have recently read the newspaper and was treated to the sight of your lovely face... front page, if my memory serves correct. And it always does... You have a new case, and one of the more interesting. It seems that you have been assigned to me again, to stop me from my Washington killing spree. Did you see the picture they used of me in the paper? What do you think Clarice, can you look at it and hear my voice...? Can you feel my eyes watching you, as hold this letter in your shaking grip and glance about your humble abode? Don't get too excited, sweet Clarice, as I am not near enough to smell your delicate perfume of anticipation.  
  
"Hannibal Strikes Again"? Tell me your thoughts Clarice, I want to know what your every whim and 'feeling' is in your pursuit of this psychotic killer. I believe you know that I am not a killer, especially one would kill without necessity. Does it truly sound plausible that I would kill a teenager? In Washington? I hate to aid the bureau in anyway, but I can't take credit for a crime of this stature, especially a copycat of such a brutal and classless sort. I am not the madman for which you search, and I wonder why you haven't pointed this out to our good friend Jack Crawford. Would you not be commended for you excellence of ingenuity? Perhaps your motives are of another alternative, and you know what you are doing. Do you want to find me Clarice? Do you want to see my face again, do you want to risk your life? I entertain fantasies of all sorts, even when I know that they will never be true to life.   
  
I hope you enjoy your presents, and though you will undoubtly turn them over to the F B I, please take pleasure in knowing that they are yours alone. These are not for Agent Starling, but for my Clarice.   
  
Enjoy.  
  
Yours~ Hannibal  
  
P.S. You'll note that I don't label myself as a killer, and in all probability you will remember our last rendevous in the park. You said you couldn't be with a person who killed innocent people. At my own defense, know that I only take away life from people who don't benefit the evolution of mankind. I have yet to murder the innocent, and hope you know that the lambs are safe from me. I do hope they've stopped in their pursuit of consuming your soul. But we both know that the lambs stop for no one.*  
  
Clarice suddenly realized that she was close to fainting, and forced herself to start breathing again. The letter smelled of him, of her, of them together, and she unknowingly smiled as the tears slowly dripped from her cheeks. In her own private memories, Clarice almost forgot her package, her lilac box.  
  
She laid her letter in her lap and turned her full attention to the box. It was rather large, larger even than the box that held her file on the doctor. She slowly lifted the lid and cried out when she saw the contents. On the very top, resting on the tissue paper used to wrap the larger gift, lay a pressed lily. Clarice knew immediately from where it originated. It was of a small, light purple variety, a kind she had only seen in her neighborhood park. It looked so beautiful lying on the paper, so symbolic of Hannibal's feelings. But she had yet to open her larger gift.   
  
Slowly, deliberately, Clarice lifted the tissue from her gift to see a delicate diamond necklace. It was in the shape of two tiny hearts, joined together by an emerald. It was breathtaking, but it was the final piece of her package that froze her breath, stopped her heart for one agonizing second.   
  
There were pictures. Not clippings, not magazine photos, but pictures. Of her. Hundreds of pictures of her over the past two years. Clarice sleeping, watching TV, eating dinner, at her basement office, leaving the bathroom after a shower. Hundreds of times he had been there, watching her, and she hadn't known. It was both endearing and frightening to know that he had been there, always watching, knowing what she was doing. She shivered slightly and looked about her room. 'He said he wasn't here now, but... now that I know about all this...'  
  
As Clarice stood with her pictures, yet another note tumbled from the box. She picked up and read:  
  
*Do you like them Clarice? Yes, the flower is from our park. I have kept it with me for so long, it seemed only right that you have a memento of our day. I saw the necklace and knew it was destined to lie only at your neck. Oh, and I can imagine your look of shock for my photos. It took quite awhile to obtain such a large collection. You can keep them all, as I have the copies with me.   
  
Please wear the necklace. I want to see it bask in your beauty as you walk down the streets of Paris. ~Hannibal*  
  
Clarice stared dumbly at his words. How did he know?  
  
A glance at the clock showed her that it was now 2:30. She better start packing, as she list of things to do had just gotten a little larger.... 


	5. The Irony of Good Fortune

Disclaimer: It's a sad fact, but I don't own Hannibal or Clarice or any other wonderful people (I mean, characters). They are all property of Thomas Harris. I assume you wonderful fic readers know this and don't think I actually created Hannibal. Only in my fondest dreams...  
  
Author Note: Sorry about that, I get rather emotional talking about my beloved doctor. Read my story, and forgot my random ranting!  
  
Chapter 5: The Irony of Good Fortune  
  
A blur of red flashed through the airport. The lightening fast redhead toted a blue suitcase and brown handbag, both properly tagged "Property of FBI Agent Clarice Starling." 'Oh my god,' thought Clarice, trying to find her flight terminal. 'I missed my flight, I had to have missed my flight.' A quick glance at Clarice's watch told her that it was now 9:57. She had three minutes to turn in her bags and get on the plane. Three impossible minutes.  
  
Clarice broke into a run with speed that surprised even herself, considering the suitcase she carried felt like it contained several bodies. Clarice gave up trying to find the terminal herself, she had to be on that flight! "Does anyone know where terminal H-3 is? Anyone!" Clarice looked around trying to find anyone who knew anything in this hell hole.   
  
"Yes miss, down that hall to the right." A man with kind eyes and a sweet smile pointed out her terminal. "Are you running late?"  
  
"Yes, I am. I have to check my bags, I can't miss that plane." Though she fought it, desperation had seeped into her sentence. But the stranger only smiled.  
  
"Give me your bags, I'm an attendant on your flight. They won't leave without me, I will go check them for you."  
  
"Um....." Clarice couldn't help hesitating, he was a stranger. 'But,' she thought, 'He's wearing a uniform, and he's so sweet...' "OK, thank you very much."  
  
Again he smiled. "Don't worry miss, your bags will be on your flight in a moment. And by the way, my name is Steven Collier, just tell the person at the terminal I said to wait for me."  
  
Good fortune had fallen into Clarice's lap just before she stood up. "Great, thank you!" She sprinted to the terminal and saw the clock: 10:01.  
  
She began to run down the terminal when the attendant tried to stop her. "Ma'am your flight is about to leave!"  
  
Clarice stopped, clearly expressing her annoyance for this woman who was only holding her up. "Steven Collier said to wait. Here's my ticket, now get out of my way before I miss the damn plane!"  
  
The attendant smiled briefly, a fake smile that made Clarice think of a store mannequin. "Oh, Steven said that, huh? The captain won't be very happy... OK, hurry before your flight is sent to the runway."  
  
Clarice broke the speed of light the whole way to the plane. To her surprise, there were people milling about the entrance, talking and getting settled in.  
  
A young woman checked Agent Starling's ticket and showed her to her seat. It was on the aisle, but it was first class. Clarice had never gone anywhere first class, and she assumed this would be the only time. The bureau was really kissing her ass to make her happy, which Clarice assumed was to avoid a lawsuit from her rejection after the Drumgo killing and her last known encounter with the good doctor. Clarice would never file against the bureau, but they didn't know that. And until the day they figured it out, Clarice would have very comfortable travel accommodations.   
  
She settled into her seat with her only carryon items, a tape player with headsets and a book. It was 10:10, and she was sitting in her seat, on her plane. She was off to Paris, and had completed everything on her list before she left, too. Perhaps this flight would be a nice relaxing start to her case, allowing her to calm down and read her book.   
  
Clarice opened her book, the latest V.C. Andrews novel, and prepared to sink into the lives of young girls who triumphed the evils and always met their true love by the end of the book. She was stopped however, by a tap on her shoulder. "Hello miss, your bags are checked and in the cargo hold right now. I watched them load your suitcase myself."  
  
The kind attendant stood over Clarice expecting no thanks, only acknowledgment that the task was completed. It was very sweet, and Clarice noticed that he was not at all bad looking, but in fact turned the heads of many young ladies onboard her flight. 'Not bad, not bad at all...'  
  
"Thank you again, I would have missed my flight if you hadn't helped me. How can I repay you?" That sounded so stupid and feminine to Clarice that she could barely suppress the gagging motion her throat involuntarily made, as if to spit the bad taste of the phrase out.  
  
"Just enjoy your flight miss. If you need anything, call on me."  
  
"Certainly, thanks." Hmmm... he was quite attractive to watch, but he had a sway in his hips and a roving eye that rested on the male passengers that betrayed his sexual preference. 'Of course, I was trying to seduce the gay flight attendant... maybe I am losing my touch...'  
  
The plane was called to the runway and Clarice strapped on her seatbelt. She took notice that no one currently occupied the seat next to her, and hoped that no one would. Clarice did enjoy a good view, and if the passenger next to her did not show up, she would take his/her seat. Until then, she decided to start on her book.  
  
Once the plane was in the air, a man appeared from one the bathrooms on the back of the plane. His tan corduroys swished as he made his way to first class in the dark. Almost all the passengers had turned out their lights to get some sleep. But one light was on, in the seat next to his.  
  
Clarice was thoroughly engrossed in her book, but she did take notice that someone sat in her window seat. She had finally gotten to a good part of her book, when the young woman meets her love and they have their first romantic interlude. The scene the author so vividly described caused her breath to slightly quicken. Unconsciously, Clarice leaned forward in her seat, absorbed by the young couples passion. She was so absorbed that she didn't notice her fellow passenger lean over her. She didn't pay him any notice until he turned out her light, and by then it was too late. As she turned to assault him with obscenities for his blatant rudeness, he covered her mouth with his hand.  
  
"Are you reading something dirty Clarice?"  
  
She fought against her seat mate until she recognized his voice. She froze, watching as his other hand slowly turned on his light. She sat face to face with her enemy, fascination and new passenger, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.  
  
"I believe it would be in your best interest, as well as the interest of the other 96 passengers on this aircraft, to simply control your primal urge to knock me unconscious. We both know that I am much faster than you are, and the outcome of such a struggle could be catastrophic." Simply put, he was right. If she tried to fight him, there was no telling what he would do to the other passengers. She relaxed her shoulders and sank back into her seat. Now was not the time for a confrontation.  
  
"Good Clarice. Just sit back and relax. We still have another eight hours on this flight."  
  
Eight hours... 


	6. An Eight Hour Tour

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda, the first disclaimer applies to my whole story. I love Hannibal!  
  
Chapter 6: The Eight Hour Tour  
  
'Be quiet, don't scream, don't do anything stupid Agent Starling. Don't mess up again...' Clarice mentally disciplined herself, before she did something to put everyone's lives in danger. She glanced quickly to her left, at the window seat passenger. His left hand still covered her mouth, but his right was now turning off the overhead light. The whole time she sat stunned, he never took his eyes away from her, his red eyes that flashed brilliantly in the darkness.  
  
"Please listen Clarice. My ticket is reserved under the name Beneti Maraghen. When we are in the company of a stewardess or passenger, you will refer to me as Ben, a long lost college professor and mentor. I know you don't have any weapons on you, but I do have a few on me. I did not expect you to endanger innocent lives, but I did anticipate your heroics. I only ask that you don't give me a reason to do something that you deem cruel and unjust. Fair?"  
  
Clarice nodded without hesitation. She moved her head to the side to get out of his grasp, but he expected her movement.  
  
^Shhhrrriiiiiiiikkkkkk^  
  
Clarice felt her eyes widen. As soon as she had moved her head, he had removed his hand. And handcuffed it to hers.  
  
She looked down at their now-linked arms. "Doctor, I wasn't trying to escape, just regain my ability to talk!" she whispered.  
  
He sat back comfortably in his seat and pulled a cover from under it. Only after spreading it over their laps did he say, "Deja vu?"  
  
"This isn't funny. Are we going to sit like this for eight hours? What if an attendant comes over?"  
  
"We've already covered that."  
  
Clarice brought her arm our from under the blanket. "What if I have to reach for something? I can't just use my right hand to grab a tray of food, or you use your left."  
  
"True, but an attendant wanting a sizable tip would do it for you."  
  
This arrangement was already becoming too much to handle. "What if one of us has to go to the bathroom?!"  
  
Hannibal's eyes lit up. "I'm sure we'll think of.... something." The smirk that snuck up the side of his mouth was frightening to most, but commonplace to Clarice.  
  
"Please doctor, save the sexual innuendo for now. I wish you'd take the cuffs off."  
  
"I will, Clarice, when I am ready. For the moment, it would please me greatly if you would brush the hair out of your face. It succeeds only in clouding your beauty, and I believe your eyes hide many secrets behind a curtain of silken locks."  
  
Begrudgingly, Clarice used her free arm to push back her hair, her eyes watching where his wandered. He was looking down at her chest, but not lustfully. She also looked down, and realized why he was gazing so intently.  
  
"I'm glad you wore your necklace, although I am surprised that you didn't turn it over to the proper authorities. It looks beautiful on you."  
  
Despite herself, Clarice felt a blush warm her cheeks. "I am the proper authority, doctor. And thank you, it's lovely. All your gifts were."  
  
A smile of appreciation flirted in the doctor's eyes. "The necklace wasn't beautiful until it touched your neck. It simply radiates your own qualities."  
  
Clarice was just beginning to get her mind focused back on their current situation when she felt his cuffed hand grab hers. He squeezed it tightly, almost tight enough to cause pain, but not quite. It seemed to be a way of keeping her attention. "Two years prior to this day, you said you would address me only by my given name. Let's not revert back to old habits."  
  
"All right Hannibal, forgive me. In all fairness, it has been quite awhile since our last meeting."  
  
"Of course you're right, but now you will remember. If you'll pardon me for a brief moment, I must check my passport papers. I fear that a blundering travel clerk got them out of order. Please, go back to your book..."  
  
Clarice sat dumbly while Hannibal used his free hand to pull out a folder from next to his chair. He pulled out the papers inside and began to rifle through them, and doing quite well with his current handicap. She decided to go back to her book, though it would be difficult to hold with one hand.  
  
Clarice held her book and pretended to read, but instead began to drink in her situation. She was sitting next to Hannibal Lecter, watching him sort through his papers while he held her hand. Clarice tried hard to think about the various people he ate, to see this man only as a cold blooded killer. While she tried to imagine him attacking those police in Memphis, or convincing Mason Verger to cut off his face, she still felt his hand holding hers. She couldn't see past his hand, her hand, under the covers, linked by cold metal.   
  
It took almost two minutes, but finally Hannibal noticed her eyes on him. He watched her for a moment, then realized that he was still holding her hand.  
  
"Forgive me Clarice, I did not want to inflict unwanted contact on you..." Hidden under the cover, Dr. Lecter released her hand, moving his own off of the armrest. By doing this, his arm dangled uncomfortably above his lap. But he wouldn't make Clarice feel uncomfortable in any way. "You should have said something."  
  
Clarice watched his soul flit behind his eyes. She looked for emotion that was too well masked for her to observe. And she made a decision. "It's OK, you weren't bothering me." She casually reached into his seat and grasped his hand. It was soft and still warm from their previous touch. She squeezed it slowly, still watching him.   
  
Hannibal looked from the cover to Clarice. He tried to imagine some plan she had come up with to try and capture him, but couldn't. Her eyes looked scared and... new. Like the day in the park... "Aren't you afraid of me Clarice? Aren't you afraid that I could lean over you at any second and eat out your eyes?"  
  
"No," smiled Clarice. "You've had your chance, several chances, in fact. I figure that I either taste bad, or you think I'm cute." At her final statement, a look of incredulous wonder crossed the doctor's face.  
  
"Indeed..." he mulled, as Clarice placed her headset over her pale ears. "Indeed."  
  
Clarice congratulated herself on a witty ending to a conversation with the wittiest "person" she had ever known. She pressed PLAY on her tape player, not thinking about what tapes she had brought with her. She was automatically greeted with, "And what did you see Clarice..."  
  
Shit.... she brought her Hannibal conversation collection, as a prep for the case. She didn't want to listen to these, not now. She had him here with her, what was the point? Not only that, but Clarice didn't want the doctor to know she had these with her. It seemed silly, but she didn't want him to know that was what she listened to in her spare time. It seemed obsessive. Then she remembered the photos. 'Hah,' she thought, 'I'm one to talk about obsessive. Those pictures...'  
  
The tape played on, set to a rather loud volume. Hannibal was watching her, since she had squeezed his hand hard enough to hurt him at the start of her tape. She truly was a fascinating creature to observe. Each emotion played out in her eyes, making her seem as if she was acting out a play inside her head. He leaned in slightly, so slightly she didn't see or feel him move. He recognized the tape as a recording of his voice, something that apparently startled Clarice at the moment. He did her the service of pressing STOP on her player.  
  
"I believe now is a good time to discuss your current case, don't you?" He wanted to get her away from the tapes, as they were obviously disturbing her. "Tell me why you let Crawford think I am the Washington killer."  
  
Clarice was glad that he turned off her tape, but this is not what she wanted to talk about. Instead, she decided to take charge of this conversation. "Take off the handcuffs Hannibal."  
  
"No Clarice, now don't be rude. We were discussing your case."  
  
"No Hannibal, you brought that up. I would rather talk about something else."  
  
Odd, he thought. He had been certain that she would tell him about her case, as it was the lone reason for her flight to Paris. But, his questions could wait. "What would you like to discuss?"  
  
"First, I'd like to know how you knew I'd be on this plane and why you're here."  
  
A smile. "Not to sound cliché, Agent Starling, but I have my sources. As for why I'm here, I wanted to talk about your information. My minds spins with the myriad of mistakes made by your bureau already. Do they honestly think I did committed this crime? I am insulted, and everyone knows what happens when someone crosses a deranged madman who's been insulted."  
  
"I'm a part of the bureau. Are you going to eat me?"  
  
"The answer to both is no. You aren't a part of the bureau, you're better then the bureau. And I'm not yet sure whether you're cute or simply inedible. I await the chance to find out..."  
  
"As do I."  
  
The doctor wore an expression on his face that neither he nor Clarice had seen on him: complete and total shock. "Clarice, you have shocked me completely, but don't say things you don't mean, they can get you into trouble."  
  
"It seems to me that I'm already in trouble. And I don't say things I don't mean." Clarice looked very confidant and sure, Lecter almost didn't want to knock her out of her comfort.  
  
The smile returns. "Oh, but you do. Anthrax island...."  
  
And the confidence never faltered. "Crawford's not telling me what to say this time, Hannibal."  
  
Hannibal was for once at a loss for a witty retort. He sat back in his chair and looked at his clock. There was time for his plan to work, time enough to work without a single mistake, given Clarice's new outlook on their 'relationship.'   
  
He turned his head to Clarice and said only, "Seven more hours."  
  
**Do you like how Hannibal's plan is unfolding? R/R!!! And I was thinking, that whoever reads at least three of my five fanfics can be featured in the final chapter, under either their given name or under their fic name. It could be fun.... Rahr, I love Hannibal (deja vous...) Well, gimme some feedback, and I love Frank N' Furter too! 


	7. Trust Goes Hand in Hand

Disclaimer: I refuse to write anymore disclaimers! Ch. 6 has my disclaimers covered for the whole story! Mwahahahaha!  
  
Chapter 7: Trust Goes Hand in Hand  
  
It was now approximately 11:30 PM, seven more hours until Hannibal and Clarice reached Paris. She wondered if they would have to go the entire trip handcuffed together, as the metal cuff was beginning to hurt her wrist. But she knew that his trust had to be earned first, and that became her goal.  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
"Yes Clarice?" Under the circumstances, the doctor could hardly wait to hear his captives next words. She was truly astounding, saying things Lecter only dreamed of: she was flirting.  
  
"I was just thinking about your victims, about all the people you so brutality murdered. Did you like it? Did you like to cut them apart and see their pain?"  
  
Astonishment flickered in the doctor's eyes. "I did not like to cut them apart so much as I enjoyed their taste. Of course, I am sometimes in the mood for a bit of gore, but normally I go through it all for a moment of originality and a delightful meal. Ask yourself, Clarice. Have you ever walked down the street only to hear some obscene stranger whistle at you? I myself do not understand the level of violation a woman might feel, but I wonder what you might want to do to that person. Would you want to corner him somewhere, and slit his throat? Would you drink the blood that poured from his open wound, and bask in the knowledge that you have just helped clear the streets of filth? I myself rarely drink blood, but I do enjoy a nice broiled heart from time to time.  
  
"I hope you don't think of me, Special Agent Starling, as garbage collector. In fact, I will eat whoever I want if it suits me. Keep this in confidence, but I have been eyeing the young lady in front of us. She looks quite tasty. But fear not, as I do not anticipate the death of any passengers on this flight, unless you decide to initiate a massacre... and I don't believe you will.   
  
"Of course I won't. Dammit, hunting you would be so much easier if you were a professional golfer or something. Then at least I could be a step ahead of you." Though Clarice believed her statement, Hannibal noticed how she cast her eyes to the side. Not as if she were lying, but simply a look of flirtation.   
  
"Ah, yes Clarice, but it wouldn't be nearly as fun... Now, may we discuss your case?"  
  
She sighed. "Yes, we might as well. I am growing tired of it, the pictures are rather gruesome."  
  
Clarice pulled several folded papers from within her jacket. "These are all the important papers. Go ahead and look, I'll explain as you go."  
  
Hannibal pulled the top paper and several photographs out of the pile. She was right, they were gruesome. But it was more than that; they were messy and amateur.  
  
"Take a good look at the male, you can see that he has been... dissected. I personally didn't think it looked like your work, but what the hell do I know, right? Mr. Crawford pointed out the surgical lines, which are similar to your past victims. I believe that is where the similarities end. He is a teenage boy, which seemed... out of your league? And then there's the girl..." Clarice took the photographs from Hannibal and put them in her jacket, now removing one large picture.  
  
"She was found close to the first victim, but the crime was approached differently. Her face is non-existant, that's clear enough. But that's about all for her. It does look like Cujo attacked her, but the forensics showed human teeth as the cause of damage. That's all that we have... oh, wait, turn that picture over. You see the smaller picture taped to it? Read..."  
  
"T 'aime." A perfect french accent.  
  
"Yes, that's carved into her back. And the boy, look at him."  
  
Hannibal looked and nodded. "Je... Je t'aime is french for 'I love you.' And they thought I did this?"  
  
Clarice looked sheepishly toward her clear coated nails. "Yes, for a couple reasons. One, you tend to be ornamental with your victims when you have the time. Remember those officers in Memphis? And also, Mr. Crawford thought maybe you were trying to send me a message."  
  
Hannibal's red eyes danced. "I do remember those officers in Memphis. They were very unpleasant company. But, staying with the topic, Jack really thought I was trying to send you a message? I found that a pen and paper does quite nicely... I do believe that Jack should accept his mandatory retirement, he is noticeably slipping."  
  
Clarice busied herself putting the photos away. "I agree. Since Bella died, he's really been having a hard time. But, he's a good man, and I hate to see him go."  
  
Hannibal gazed at Clarice for a moment, storing her innocence and morals in his Memory Palace. "Clarice, did you think this was from me?"  
  
She didn't skip a beat, but looked straight into his eyes. She stated simply, "No, Hannibal. It's clearly the work of an amateur."   
  
They were both comfortable in their seats, though Hannibal wished she were closer to him. Hannibal stroked Clarice's metal linked hand. "Did you want 'Je t'aime' to be from me?"  
  
She thought for a second, maybe two, and replied with a shake of her head. "I know how you feel for me Hannibal."  
  
Hannibal leaned in towards Clarice, stopping a centimeter from her neck. He inhaled deeply, moving toward her face. "I don't smell fear Clarice. I'm glad, as it would be an unexpected shock if I did. I do smell something though. Something that you cannot possess. But," he inhaled again, "you are drenched in it. Do you know what I speak of Clarice?"  
  
Clarice rolled her blue eyes to the side and added a feminine giggle. "Yes I do. I'm wearing Old Spice."  
  
Hannibal chuckled at the unexpected quip. "Excuse me? Whatever for?"  
  
"I got tired of smelling like a girl. I'm experimenting." Another laugh, another roll of her sweet blue eyes. "Actually, I bought the wrong perfume one night when I was... tipsy. So, I didn't want to waste, and now I smell like a big, strong man."  
  
The thought of his Clarice wearing Old Spice brought whimsy to the doctor's intense eyes. He turned to the window to hide a laugh, knowing that Clarice was putting a trophy in her mental room of accomplishments for making him break his concentration.  
  
"Tou che Clarice, a lovely anecdote."  
  
As Clarice laughed at Hannibal, she felt the handcuff drop from her wrist. Her first goal was met within the hour... he trusted her.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*Sorry this has taken so long for me to get up, I have been struggling with my crazy homework. Anyway, enjoy this installment, I hope to have the next chapter up by Monday. No, no, I will (looks to the side). Yeah, Monday, whoo hoo! So, until then, continue to shiver with antici..............pation!!! 


	8. A Mind Undiscovered

Disclaimer: Now people, I know I told you I wasn't going to write any disclaimers! Don't you remember!? Oh, you don't? That's ok, just don't forget again....:)  
  
Just a little note to an interesting new friend: StrawberryLecter, this one's for you!  
  
Chapter 8: A Mind Undiscovered  
  
12:22 AM ~ 6 hours and 8 minutes left till the plane arrived in Paris  
  
Clarice rubbed her newly released wrist. She watched Hannibal's laughing subside and saw him check for her response to this new freedom.  
  
"I believe you are capable enough to handle yourself, hmm Clarice?" He smiled waiting to see what she would do.  
  
"Thank you, Hannibal. I now know officially that I'm a big girl." On this final note, she stood up in the aisle. The look on Lecter's face was one of shock, amusement, and worry. He reached quickly across the seats and grasped her wrist firmly.  
  
"Don't worry, I'm just going to the bathroom. You know I won't do anything..." She smiled sweetly and removed his hand, which in itself took effort. "If I'm not back in two minutes, you can eat my liver. That is, if you happen to have some fava beans...."  
  
Dr. Lecter finished her sentence with a knowing smile. "And a nice Chiante. Yes, two minutes, my dear."   
  
As Clarice walked to the back of the plane for the bathrooms, Hannibal felt eyes on him. He looked in front of him, and sure enough, a young girl was watching him from four rows up. She looked at him, not frightened, but curious.   
  
He stared at her for a moment when she abruptly rose from her seat. She walked back to him and sat in Clarice's unoccupied seat. She looked to be about twelve, and rather pretty. "Hi, I'm Jamie. I was watching you."  
  
Hannibal smiled. "I noticed that. Is there something I can help you with?"  
  
She smiled a little and nodded. "I just wanted to tell you that you have very pretty eyes. That, and you make me think of one of my favorite people in the world. You look remarkably like him."  
  
Dr. Lecter widened his eyes only slightly at the girl's straightforward and complimentary attitude. "Thank you Jamie. Who is it I remind you of?" Clarice had one minute left.  
  
The young girl fidgeted a bit. "Well, you see, I like to write. I have recently seen a movie called Hannibal and now I'm obsessed with the main character in it. You look very close to him."  
  
The doctor stopped breathing for a quick beat, but it went unrecognized. "Is that a fact? I believe you refer to the infamous Dr. Lecter, yes?"  
  
She nodded and stood. "Yes, that's him. You look intelligent and... mysterious, like he does. I just wanted to tell you that."  
  
Hannibal smiled out of wonder and relief. "Well, that's quite a compliment Jamie. I thank you." He bowed his head to her, causing her to blush and murmer a quick farewell before returning to her seat.  
  
'My, my...' thought Hannibal. He stroked his medium length black-gray hair, wishing that his contacts had been ready for this flight. Very few people, probably only himself, had red eyes. He was amazed that a child had pointed out his resemblance to the actor Anthony Hopkins, who was portraying him in some hideously incorrect movie version of his murders and interactions with *Special *Agent Starling. 'From the mouths of babes...' he thought.  
  
He stopped his thoughts short. Where was Special Agent Starling? She was 16 seconds late... Hannibal stood casually and began walking to the back of the plane.  
  
As he opened the curtain separating first class and coach, he collided with Clarice. She hadn't been paying attention and walked into him at a top speed. She gasped slightly, and Hannibal noticed that she had taken her hair down.   
  
"Oh my god... you scared me half to death!" she whispered. She calmed a little and chuckled. "There was a line to the bathroom. Were you worried?"  
  
Hannibal put his hand gently, but firmly, on her arm. "Yes, Clarice. I thought perhaps I was misguided in removing your restraints so early in our trip. Let's sit, please." He guided her back to their seats.  
  
Once they were settled in again, Clarice leaned over to him. She moved forward, till her mouth brushed his ear. "Thank you for trusting me." She leaned forward again, placing her fingers under his chin and turning his face to hers.   
  
Clarice whispered to him, holding the doctor's intense eyes: "And for not eating my liver, even though I am a few seconds late." With this, she kissed him gently, neither one of them closing their eyes. Hannibal returned her kiss with a hunger barely exceeding her own.  
  
After a sweet moment, Clarice broke their kiss. Hannibal blinked, but didn't move, still watching her. Clarice also continued watching, and then ran her tongue across her lips. "Mmmm....you have been drinking Chiante, haven't you?"  
  
Hannibal smiled appreciativily. "Ah, Clarice, I see you have improved your palette since we last met. Yes, I had a glass before this flight. And might I add what a lovely thank you that was. It tasted like innocence, chocolate and blood..."  
  
"Hmm... what an interesting combination." She coyly smiled, positioned as she was for their last kiss. She whispered softly to him, "Doctor, we must be careful. People will think we're in love..."  
  
Hannibal was beginning to wonder what had changed his sweet and moral Clarice into this seductress sitting next to him. He knew he was blushing, only slightly, but Clarice knew it too. She had received her desired effect, and was now basking in the glory of it. She grasped his hand firmly and laid her head back into the seat, no longer fighting sleep, but surrendering peaceably.   
  
"Hannibal, I assume I don't have to restrain you in any way? You will still be here when I wake from my nap?"  
  
"What a marvelous question Clarice. Why don't you wait and see..."  
  
They both knew he would be there when she awoke.  
  
*^*^* Ten minutes later *^*^*  
  
Hannibal watched Clarice sleep. It was a wonderful way to observe, something he had done many times since their first meeting years ago. He loved to watch her eyes twitch beneath their shrouded darkness, to see her chest rise gently with each breath. He had observed her during many dreams, knowing what most of them were. He had seen her nightmares, with her lips quivering and her hands clenching. Even in her dreams, her first reaction was to reach for her gun. He had wiped the tears from her checks when her dreams were more than she could handle. He had even seen her go for a week without dreaming at all, and yet he had never seen her dream a dream like the one he watched now.  
  
She had only been asleep for a few minutes, but she seemed to already be in an REM sleep. Her smiling lips were forming soundless words as her head rolled to the side. She squeezed his hand in her sleep, very softly. This dream was the one dream he had never seen; and he couldn't tell what it was.  
  
Hannibal reached to Clarice, trying to gently lift her head upright again. But as his hand pushed against her head, she snapped awake, twisting his wrist and spitting at him, "I am the HONEY!"  
  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* Here's a note from the author of this fic: Sorry sorry, I was trying not to do a cliffhanger, but I had to! It fits so well with my upcoming chapter, I just had to stop here. In case you are confused, Clarice's last outburst is from her dream, as she awakened. Jamie~ Here you are sweetie, you are in your very own chapter of A Killer Romance! This still applies to any other people who will review this work plus two more: you can be in a chapter of this story! If you do this, email me at LectersgirlSLC@cs.com, or if I see that you've reviewed some stories, I can email you! I promise to have the next chapter up by Friday! ~Fauna 


	9. Connections in a Single Mind

Disclaimer: You really want to see a disclaimer here? You are a very sick individual...  
  
Chapter 9: Connections in a Single Mind  
  
*^*Clarice was standing in her apartment, double-checking all her suitcases, making sure she had her toothbrush. She had two hours before she had to get to the airport, good time for a person who was operating under the influence of a hangover and an infamous Lecter letter. She sat on her couch, waiting for something to happen.  
  
For ten minutes, Clarice stared at a cigarette burn on her couch. It never moved, never changed position. It never winked at her, or smiled, or ate people. It was simply one of the many wounds the couch displayed from battles with Virginia Slims. It was permanent, and gave Clarice something solid to focus on. She wasn't feeling particularly healthy, and her mind was fuzzy with thoughts, far too many for one person. Clarice simply needed to sit for awhile and regain her composure. 'This case will be cake,' thought Clarice. She knew she'd be back within two weeks, and then perhaps she could focus on the more important goals in her life, none of which included the FBI. She needed time to herself, and was glad to know that this case would be her last. She had decided to quit.  
  
Clarice was still sitting on the couch when her doorbell rang. She cast a stoney glare at the door, almost challenging it to open. It didn't, and Clarice realized that she was perhaps less healthy than she thought. She rose from the couch, straightening her light tan blouse and blue jeans. She knew she looked fine, but it was always good to check.  
  
Clarice leaned her head against the door and yelled for identification of the ringer. A voice answered that needed no identification. "Starling, open up, it's Krendler."  
  
'Oh good, this is the perfect sendoff...' she thought as she plastered a fake smile on her face. She unlocked the door and returned to her couch. "It's open, come on in."  
  
Krendler opened the door with authority, stepping into her apartment briskly and shutting the door again. He looked around, drinking in his surroundings, till he saw Clarice sitting on the couch. She looked rather alluring in her tan blouse, top buttons open, showing just a bit of cleavage. Her jeans were tight but tasteful, and she was barefoot. Krendler had always had a thing for toes, and hers were not an exception. They were very cute.  
  
Clarice shifted her weight slightly. A look of confidence resided on her face, as she asked, "What is it, Mr. Krendler?"  
  
He grinned mischievously. "I just thought we should meet up here before we went to the plane. Didn't want to chance you getting lost or being late..."  
  
The confidence faltered, giving way to shock. "Excuse me, sir, Mr. Crawford never said anything about you coming along."  
  
"Well, you can't very well go by yourself, can you? You're an embarrassment to the bureau, Starling. No one wants to risk you going solo on any case, even and especially Lecter's."  
  
In three seconds, several thoughts occurred to Clarice. She resented that Crawford hadn't said anything to her. She hated that of all the agents, he had to go all the way to Justice and get Paul, their hate for each other was so obvious! She despised that he was standing here, insulting her in her own damn living room. She hated that she felt so helpless... And then she saw him looking at her chest, her hips, her toes.  
  
Clarice suddenly knew how to remedy a bad situation.  
  
She rose slowly from the couch. "Did you request this assignment Paul?"  
  
A stupid, school boy grin was apparent when she said his first name. "Why do you want to know, Starling?"  
  
She walked closer to him, now about four feet away. Softly, she said, "I just noticed how you looked at my chest. You seemed very glad to be on the case." She looked down at his pants, with a delicious smile. "Very glad indeed."  
  
Krendler was not embarrassed, he continued his conversation. "It's a good case. I just don't want to see any corn pone country p- - - - messing it up."  
  
Something light, something quick fleeted past Clarice's eyes. A blink of red, and it was final. She walked over to Paul, putting her arms on his shoulders. "Paul, I'd like you to leave, and let me take this case alone. I need to do this by myself."  
  
A simple grin widened. "No way in hell. I could, perhaps, be persuaded by a quick lay?" It was a question, not a statement.   
  
She pulled him to the couch and jumped on top of him. "Okay."  
  
Krendler sat stunned, ready to jump up if this was a trick. Then he leaned up to kiss Clarice, make the moment he had so long dreamed of come true. He closed his eyes and positioned his head...  
  
Clarice slowly removed the Xacto knife from her pocket. She pushed the slight blade up to its full extension, and pressed it into Krendler's abdomen.  
  
His face contorted with pain and surprise. "What the fuck are you doing!?"  
  
She pushed it in a little, cutting through his jacket and slacks. "Teaching you a lesson in manners, MR. Krendler."  
  
She quickly pulled him into a sitting position and moved behind him, pressing the knife into his middle. "Okay, here's how this is going to go. You aren't going to do a damn thing, got it? Not a damn thing unless I tell you to do it. Right now, I want you to take off your clothes, all of them. And don't try to run, I'm faster than you'll ever wish to be. I'll cut you before you know what happened, and it won't be quick. Now do it!"  
  
Krendler stood, removing his jacket as quick as his Neanderthal arms would allow. He tried to unbutton his shirt, but his nervousness made the buttons slip. Clarice ran the knife under the buttons, slicing the shirt apart. "Hurry up, I don't have time for this."  
  
Krendler began to cry as he took off his pants and boxers. He left his black shoes and socks on. Clarice tilted her head mockingly. "It seems you have reason to cry, huh Paul?"   
  
He realized he had nothing to lose but his life, and attacked her. He lunged for her throat, pushing her into the wall. He tried to choke her, tried and tried, but she pushed his arm away with inhuman strength. She leaned toward him, as if to kiss him... and bit off his nose.  
  
Paul screamed as blood ran down his face. He put his hands to his face, trying to cover his new wound. He never saw Clarice whip around and punch him in his temple. He was out cold before the fullness of the pain ever registered.  
  
Clarice stood above Paul. She wiped her hand across her mouth, leaving a trail of blood. She kneeled before him, wearing a look of disgust. She heard the voice in her head, His voice. 'Do you know why the Philistines don't understand you, Clarice? You are the answer to Samson's riddle. You are the honey in the lion.' She smiled with the revelation.  
  
She began to pull him into the kitchen, wearing a smile only worn by one other person. "Do you hear that Paul? I am the HONEY!"*^*^*  
  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*Authors note: Oh, I so conquered this chapter! I stayed up all night working on it, and here it is, done, done, done! Woosh! Ok, lets set the next installment around this coming Thursday. It may be earlier, but this is a date I will definitely be done by. Enjoy, please R/R!!! 


	10. A Change of Plans

Disclaimer: Oh, please... I LOVE THOMAS HARRIS!!!!  
  
Chapter 10: A Change of Plans  
  
Hannibal felt the brute strength in Clarice's grip. He saw the rage flash in her eye, among so many conflicting thoughts. He watched as the realization of what she was doing settled on her face, and grinned wickedly.  
  
"Bad dream, Clarice?"  
  
Whether she missed the sarcasm or choose to ignore it, he didn't know. She settled back in her seat, letting the wave of the present settle over her. She looked at him blankly, trying to think of something intelligent to explain why she had attacked him.  
  
"I'm sorry Hannibal. I'm... sorry." Clarice shrugged with a bitter laugh. "Didn't mean to go FBI on you..."   
  
"No apologies, my dear. I found your outburst to be most... intriguing. Might I ask what you were dreaming?"  
  
The flash in her eye. "Not now. Remind me though, and I'll tell you later."  
  
Hannibal did not enjoy waiting, not normally, but he would wait for her. "I never forget. Now, if you don't mind visiting the past Clarice, quid pro quo. A trite statement, I know, but I want you to tell me why you you sound so bitter about your F..B..I..." His tiny white teeth gleamed in the darkness of the plane. "Please tell..."  
  
Clarice looked away and sighed. "Can I tell you something? Of course I can, forget I said that. My life is worthless to the FBI. I didn't know it, or at least, refused to face it, until recently. I could go out on the firing range and shoot myself in the face, and I don't think any one person from the bureau would be upset. Maybe Jack would, maybe on a personal level, but I'm sure that's it. You could eat me up right now, and I would only be a post script on the next office memo. That's all I am to them.  
  
"I gave my life to the bureau. I let the badge comfort me, and the gun give me control. But--" Clarice's eyes shined bright from the tears unshed. "They didn't, not really. I let the bureau be my family, and I gave myself to them willingly. I sacrificed a happy life, a family, and surely my sanity. I thought devotion and ambition were all I needed to make a career, and look at me. I'm the agent no one wants to take a case with, the embarrassing officer who would benefit her department best by being swept under the proverbial rug. And you knew didn't you?" The tears dripped down her pale cheeks. Her voice faltered, little more than a whisper. "You knew..."  
  
She sniffed quietly, brushing the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips. "I believe I remember a quid pro quo, Doctor. Your turn. Tell me why you're here, what your plan is."  
  
Hannibal shifted his weight in the seat so that he could face her. "Clarice, I believe you know why I am here. As for a plan, well, I really didn't have one. I wanted only to find you, to see you again. Of course, I had to discuss the case with you, but I also missed your haunted eyes. They are haunted, did you know that? The ghosts of your mind are well hidden, but definetly there. I have often wondered, Clarice, did the lambs ever stop? Have you found peace within yourself? I hope you have, your daddy would be glad to know it."  
  
Clarice propped her head on her arm, taking on a thoughtful pose. "The lambs have stopped Hannibal. They have long been replaced by other memories, much more appealing ones. I have soothed my sore thoughts, healed them to the best of my capabilities." Clarice cast her eyes coyly toward her seatmate. "But, I'm sure that what I need is a doctor..."  
  
Hannibal nodded. "I am certain you do, Clarice, I know just the person. He is--"  
  
Hannibal's words were interrupted by the kind, though rather alternative flight attendant. "Hello Ms. Starling, I need to check your tickets please."  
  
Red eyes were flashing menacingly at the attendant, but Clarice stepped in. "Um, Stephan, right? You already saw my ticket, before the flight. Why do you want to see our tickets now?"  
  
Stephan tilted his head a little, speaking in a voice one would use on a small child. "New security measures, I have to be sure that everyone is in their proper places. Tickets, please?"  
  
Hannibal withdrew his wallet and handed the homosexual Stephan his ticket. Stephan checked it, looking up at the distinguished and foreign older man. 'Nice,' thought Stephan, 'just my type...'  
  
Stephan smiled a seductive smile and handed the man his ticket back. "Sir, I'm sorry, but this is not your seat. You are on the right side of the plane, five rows up. If you'll come with me, I'll show you to your seat."  
  
Clarice broke in again. "Stephan, its OK, the person who was supposed to sit here couldn't come. This is an old college professor of mine, I don't mind him sitting here."  
  
"No, he can't sit here Miss Starling. Come with me professor..." Stephan began to walk down the aisle toward Hannibal's seat, working the quirky swagger in his hips to its full effect.   
  
Hannibal was not amused. His anger was steadily rising, though the ordinary person might not notice. He leaned to Clarice, his words short. "I will take care of him, my dear." A glance at his watch. "There are four hours left in our flight, let me see what I can do..."   
  
Clarice knew Hannibal all too well to let him 'see what he could do.' It would not be the best way to handle their current situation, she knew, picturing Stephan's entrails flying off the back of the plane like a flag. She grabbed the doctor's arm calmly. "No, Hannibal, don't do anything. I will talk to him and I'm sure you will be back here in no time, OK? This isn't a big deal. Go ahead and take my case file to look at, keep yourself busy." She smiled.   
  
Hannibal scowled and took her papers. "As you wish, Clarice. I do so hate this interuption..." On that note, Hannibal stood and walked to his seat, the seat listed on his ticket. The young Stephan showed him where everything was, while at the same time flirting outrageously. Hannibal was thoroughly disgusted. 'Only for you, Clarice...' he thought.  
  
Clarice watched from her own seat, watched the repulsive display that the flight attendant so adamently displayed toward Hannibal. She wondered what he wanted to do to Stephan, how much self-control it took for him not to tear off the young man's privates...  
  
As Clarice pondered, an announcement came over the speakers. "Attention folks, this is your captain speaking. I just got word from Paris that they are experiencing some bad weather. We will be unable to land at the scheduled destination, but instead we will be landing in twenty minutes in the National Airport in Portugal. We are very sorry for any inconvinience, and ask that you now fasten your seatbelts in preparation for landing. Thank you."  
  
Stephan looked confused, then retreated to the back of the plane with the other attendants. Hannibal looked back to Clarice, ready to move to his original seat, but she stood swiftly. With a stoney look of determination, Clarice disappeared to the back of the plane...  
  
...and Hannibal drew out the case files to wait for her return. 


	11. Goodbye, Agent Starling

Disclaimer: Usual applies.  
  
A/N: I haven't done this yet, but I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed this story. I was amazed that so many people reviewed it, and I thank you all. Not sure how long this will run, but look for a sequel to this story, coming.... eventually! I love you all (and Dr. Lecter!), and now, here is chapter 11!  
  
Chapter 11: Goodbye Agent Starling  
  
Clarice hummed quietly as she proceeded back into the plane. She wasn't sure yet what she was going to do, but knew SOMETHING must be done before the plane landed. She walked through the coach section, closing her ears to the whining children and disgruntled salesmen. In the very back on the right, she saw the bathrooms. She cast a casual glance and noted that the both bathrooms were unoccupied. But that was not her destination; across from the bathrooms, she went to the flight attendant quarters.   
  
Clarice pulled the curtain to the side to see a tiny room full of attendants, bustling to make arrangements for their prompt landing. Not a one noticed her as she walked up to Stephan, who busied himself turning off coffee-makers.   
  
"Stephan?"  
  
Stephan turned with a flair, putting his hand on his hip. Clearly startled, he greeted her anxiously. "Miss Starling? Dear God you scared me! You can't be back here, please go fasten your seatbelt now, we are preparing to land."  
  
Clarice tilted her head feign her ignorance. "I can't be back here? Oh, I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you, the man I was sitting with? You remember? Well, he told me that he wanted to see you real quick."  
  
Stephan perked up, his expression a cross between a hopeful dog and the late Dr. Chilton. "Did he? You can tell him I will see him when the plane lands."  
  
Clarice giggled. "No, Stephan. He wants to see you now... in the bathroom. I wouldn't keep him waiting if I were you." With a lovely bright smile, Clarice slipped out from the curtain.  
  
And the smile widened as she entered the men's restroom.  
  
*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*  
  
Hannibal checked his watch, becoming apprehensive. Clarice had been gone almost ten minutes, and he worried that young Stephan had caused her some kind of trouble. The doctor audibly sighed as he opened the case file for the umpteenth time, now actually reading over the material.  
  
As Hannibal read, certain questions filtered through his mind. Why had she worn the necklace, instead of turning it over? She already told him that, she was the proper authority, and she liked it. Why hadn't she wanted to talk about her case? Hmmm.... Why did she taste so different now than before, and what had she been dreaming? It was as if he was meeting her for the first time. Not that it was unwelcome or unwanted, but he needed, longed to know what had happened to her.  
  
Then it occurred to him: someone had reserved the seat next to her. Clarice knew it, knew the person. She must have had someone on the case with her. Jack Crawford was dense, but not so much that he would send his Death Angel out alone on a case. Even if the other agent couldn't have gone, someone else would have taken his or her place. But... what did this mean?  
  
Hannibal studied the pictures of the Washington victims: a young boy, a businesswoman. An amateur but knowledgeable attempt at copying his crimes. Why did Clarice let the FBI think he was this killer?  
  
A flash of light in Hannibal's mind. It was there all the time. He should have known. The clues were right before him, and so obvious to his trained mind.  
  
Hannibal unfastened his seatbelt and went to fetch Clarice.... because now he understood where she went.  
  
*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*  
  
Hannibal entered the male bathroom just as Clarice was finishing. She was bent over Stephan's body clad only in her undergarments, her shirt, jeans and sandals in the bowl of the sink. The blood coated her body as she carved into the young man's skin with a bit of sharp plastic. Without turning, she stood and said, "It's about damn time you figured it out."  
  
Hannibal removed her clothing from the sink as Clarice turned on the water. Always the gentleman, he turned his head away as she stripped off her soaking bra and panties, throwing them in the toilet. She grabbed her clothing hurriedly, pulling on her her clothes and drenching herself in L'air du temps. Only when she gave the word did he turn his head to her again. She was smiling.  
  
"Let's discuss this later, Hannibal. By my watch, the plane is landing now."  
  
She reached for his hand as she opened the door. She pulled him along as he glanced back to the now unrecognizable Stephan to see what Clarice had carved.  
  
It said, "Goodbye Agent Starling. Hello Clarice..."  
  
  
A/N: Sorry this is so short, but I needed a short one to tie up loose ends. This is not the end by far! 


	12. A Key Connection

Chapter 12: A Key Connection  
  
As Clarice and Hannibal stepped out of the toilet, they found most of the passengers were gathering their belongings. It seemed that the plane had landed while they were... taking care of business.  
  
Hannibal was careful to let Clarice go first, so no one was suspicious. He followed after a moment, rushing to grab his carry-on items. He hoped there were no male passengers needing to relieve themselves now. It was unlikely, since the plane had just landed, but one never knows where fate will lead...  
  
Clarice went to her seat and gathered her tape player and book. She considered leaving the items, but figured, what the hell. The tapes could be fun to listen to later. Clarice knew there were more important things to think about anyway. Like what exactly Hannibal knew, and when she would tell him what he hadn't already figured out.  
  
Clarice exited the aircraft, dropping something beside Hannibal's seat as she went. As he leaned to pick the item up, he saw it was a key. A key to car, but better than that; it was a licensed, FBI car key. Hannibal showed his white baby teeth as he smiled, and began to walk to the reserved parking lot. It seemed that Clarice had something to tell him...  
  
*@**@**@**@*  
  
Clarice waited in the parking lot, soaking wet and freezing her ass off. She had dropped the key to see if Lecter would come after her, but it was taking him an awful long time. When she looked at her watch, she saw only five minutes had passed since she got had gotten outside. It seemed longer, since it was raining hard and the wind was blowing. 'No wonder they canceled the flight,' she thought, 'it's raining cats and dogs out here...'   
  
Clarice began to jump from side to side, trying to get warm. Her shirt was sticking to her worse than Krendler's hands ever had, and she was starting to shiver. She now thoroughly regretted coming out alone. If she had just waited for him on the plane, she wouldn't be out here freezing to death. She looked back to the airport, waiting to see him come out. But she never did see him.  
  
Instead, Clarice felt the rain stop pelting the top of her head. She turned to see him holding an umbrella over her and carrying their luggage, curling his lovely lips into a smile. "I do hope that was a clue to your whereabouts, Agent Starling, and not a sudden decline in your training. You seem rather wet, I'll drive..."  
  
Clarice smirked as water dripped from her nose. "No, no, I'm glad you figured the key out, but I'm still in the driver's seat." She took the key from Hannibal and unlocked all the car doors. "Hop in."  
  
The perfect gentlemen placed their belongings in the back seat before he climbed in the passenger door. He was dry and cool, having been smart enough to open an umbrella before he went outside. Clarice was his complete opposite, her shirt stuck tight to her body and her jeans heavy with water. 'Not at all unattractive,' thought Hannibal.   
  
Clarice shivered a little as she started the car heater. It was damn stupid to stand out in the rain, damn stupid. Her hair hung about her face in auburn waves, dripping down the front of her shirt. She was cold, wet, but nevertheless excited. She just hoped she wouldn't get sick.  
  
But that wasn't important now. Now, she only wanted to go somewhere so they could talk. "Hannibal, I assume- I guess that you have some kind of arrangements? Somewhere we can go to talk?  
  
Hannibal was surprised again, not for the first time this evening. "Are you saying that you want to leave with me? Now?"  
  
Clarice shrugged. "Well, I don't know if I will go with you forever, but for now, yes. I would imagine that you have some questions for me, huh? This has been a more adventurous day than I expected..."  
  
"Indeed, Clarice. Yes, I have connections here, rather obvious in fact. Who do you remember from our days in that dungeon?"  
  
Clarice sat back, deep in thought. "Dr. Chilton, but he's long since dead. Miggs- Barney! Barney moved to Portugal, didn't he? Yeah, he did about four years ago. I have his address in the case file, let's go there." With a quick glance at her papers, Hannibal and Clarice made their way to the house of an old friend. 


	13. A New Home

A/N: I love all you great people who have reviewed my story, I am honored that this story is so well liked, and thank you so much for your loyal reviews. Special thanks to chameleon for emailing me and being so wonderful and supporting. You're so great, I'm glad that there are people who love the Dr. as much as me!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal, Clarice, Dr. Chilton, Miggs, Barney, Crawford or Krendler, or anyone else created by the great Thomas Harris. I do not make any profits from this story, I am just doing what I can to feed the Lecter need.  
  
Chapter 13: A New Home  
  
Barney sat in his arm chair in front of his fireplace in a maroon smoking jacket and matching slippers. He sipped a brandy lazily while trying to fight sleep. His day had been peaceful, just the way he liked, and he didn't want it to end. Barney loved to sit and listen to the rain, which was primarily of what his day had consisted, considering the storm blowing through. It made him think about all that he had in life, and how happy he had been since he had moved to Portugal. Sure, he didn't have the adventure of the work at the mental institution, but he also didn't have the insanity. Barney could have gone his whole life without meeting any of those sick people. Except, of course, for Doctor Lecter.  
  
Barney sighed and put down his drink. Checking his watch, he noted that it was now almost four in the morning. He rose to go to his bedroom, stopping at his notebook in the hallway. Barney wrote a small message inside it, only a line or two long. This notebook was his show of gratitude to the only patient he was glad to have met at the mental hospital. Barney smiled to himself. He hoped one day to thank the doctor in person, but it was highly doubtful. Hopefully, someone would find this after Barney died, years from now, and it would be posted in The Tattler. At least that way, the doctor would know that Barney appreciated his efforts...  
  
As Barney dated the note, he heard a frantic knock on his front door. He expected no callers, and luckily had nothing to hide, so he went to the door. He called, "Who is it?"  
  
"It's me Barney, open up, I'm freezing my ass off out here!"   
  
Barney thought for a moment. He knew that voice anywhere, it was Agent Clarice Starling, but why was she here in Portugal? 'Well,' he thought, 'I have nothing to hide from the police. I stopped selling Lecter's things years ago...'  
  
Barney undid the locks and held the door open wide. "Come in, Agent Starling."  
  
Starling entered with her hair hanging in wet locks around her head. Her clothes were soaked, leaving little under her shirt to the imagination. She was shivering slightly from the cold, and her jaw clenched methodically. "Thanks Barney, good to see you again."  
  
Barney moved to close the door, but Clarice blocked the way. She grinned slightly. "No, Barney, I have someone with me, he'll be right up."  
  
Someone with her? Another agent? 'Be cool, Barney, be cool. Nothing to hide!' his mind forced him to believe.  
  
Moments later, a man with several suitcases entered the door. Barney moved to help the man, and suddenly felt a stab of anxiety.   
  
Starling's travel partner placed the bags next to the door and closed it, locking it securely. Still facing the door, the man began to remove his long coat. He spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, but each word rang clear to Barney's ears.  
  
"Do you remember what you learned in the dungeon? Do you remember what we discussed about life and survival?" Laying the coat across the cases, the man turned to Barney. "You broke one of my first rules, Barney. Never let anyone in your house without a weapon handy."  
  
Barney felt his muscles tense. "Dr. Lecter? My god, I thought I'd never see you again. They told me you escaped, I didn't think you would come to visit the past, to endanger your freedom."  
  
Hannibal smiled a smile that struck fear into the hearts of many. "I don't think my freedom is in any danger here, do you Barney?"  
  
Barney blinked once, recognizing the veiled threat in his former charge's voice. "No, you aren't in any danger here. I'm actually glad to see you and will do anything you would like to show my gratitude for all you have done for me." With that, Barney held his hand out to the doctor, shaking it firmly.   
  
Hannibal nodded in Clarice's direction. "We are in need of housing, though I'm not sure for how long. Can that be arranged?"  
  
Barney nodded. "I have a fully supplied, updated attic. There is a bedroom, living quarters, kitchen and bath. You may stay as long as you need, you both should be comfortable up there."  
  
Clarice smiled hesitantly at Barney, her voice having more than the usual hint of Virginian twang. "Damn fine, Barney, thank you. Let's get to the room, if you don't mind. I'm awfully tired."  
  
At Clarice's request, Hannibal and Barney took the suitcases and went to the attic. The rooms were more than comfortable, actually bordering lavish. Clarice immediately went to the bed to lay down, while the two men went to the living quarters to discuss business.  
  
Hannibal went to a soft brown leather recliner, while Barney sat on a matching couch. The doctor looked calmly about the room, abruptly turning to look at Barney. "Thank you, Barney. I believe you are trustworthy, and hope you won't prove me wrong."  
  
Barney leaned forward slightly, lacing his fingers together. "No, it's me who should be thanking you. Those years ago, after you escaped, after you were found again in Chesapeake, you gave me a great gift."  
  
"Ahh, yes.." the doctor sighed, a slight smile forming on his lips. "You mean the money, I suppose."  
  
Again, Barney nodded. "The money, yes. When I found your notebook, almost five years ago, I found your note. The money you left me has given me so much happiness. I have given money to charities, to people in need. I have traveled to many countries, and educated myself beyond what I could have ever conceived possible. I am very happy in my life, and I will do what I can to help you be happy, too."  
  
The doctor's eyes flashed appreciation. "This will make me happy for now, Barney. I simply need time to be with Clarice."  
  
Barney rose and walked into the kitchen. "I'll make some tea. Would you like some?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
"Good, it'll be ready soon." Barney busied himself opening and closing boxes of teas and spices. "Dr. Lecter, are you and Clarice... together? I mean to say, are you a couple?"  
  
Hannibal closed his eyes in thought. He himself was not sure of the answer. "Don't ask such questions, Barney. Is that chamomile tea?"  
  
Barney felt flustered for asking such a personal question. "Um, yes, it is. Sorry for being so personal, I was curious. I do have something I think I should ask though, about Ms. Starling's welfare."  
  
Hannibal rose from his chair and walked into the kitchen. "What about her welfare?"  
  
Barney put the kettle on the stove and turned to face Lecter. "This seems- well, I feel stupid even mentioning it- but it seems that she's not really herself. I've been questioned by her many times, and I've never heard her use slang, let alone curse. But she's already done that twice, and she was only awake for ten minutes. And her accent... she's from West Virginia, right? It's very noticeable, for some reason."  
  
The doctor's eyes were closed again. He had noticed Clarice's speech pattern throughout the night. Her language had gotten increasingly worse as their trip had worn on. He hadn't known her to use such words in daily conversation, or show such aggression... He pulled the first excuse he could think of from his filing cabinet of diagnoses in his palace. "Clarice has been through a great deal of trauma in her years with the FBI. I believe it has caught up with her."  
  
The kettle began to whistle, and Barney moved it before it became loud enough to wake the now sleeping Clarice. He poured the steaming water into two cups, giving one to the doctor. "Well, then... I suppose I should get to bed, it's rather late. I'm sure you are tired as well."  
  
Sipping his tea, the doctor nodded. "I am. Thank you in advance for your hospitality."  
  
Barney took his cup and walked down the stairs from the attic, leading to the door that separated it from the rest of his house. "Your welcome. And doctor?"  
  
The doctor looked down at Barney from the top of the stairs. "Yes?"  
  
"I had always wondered what it would be like to know you outside of the dungeon. I'm glad that I have the chance."  
  
Hannibal nodded in agreement. "As am I. Good night, Barney."  
  
Barney opened the door and stepped out. "Good night, doctor."  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Whoa, am I mean person or what? I have been so busy with school and family stuff that I have been unable to post on this story! Forgive me, everyone, please! I'll be good now, I promise. In fact, if anyone is interested, I will email people when I post my next chapter, so no one has to check just to find out that I haven't posted yet. I won't let so much time go by again, I'm evil!  
  
About the story: Ok, now Barney is in the picture. There are so many questions to be answered!! Here's some things to think about... Was Clarice's Krendler dream real? Why is she using such vulgar language? And what money is Barney talking about? These, among others, will be answered in upcoming chapters.  
  
A special thanks to chameleon302 again, for including me in her story. I love that I almost got to touch him!!! If you haven't read her stuff, you should check it out. She has a funny one up now using some of the hannibal authors, and a fabulously well written SLASH fic. It's not a hannibal fic, but its really very good. I love the chameleon, Bravo!  
  
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and sent me angry/curious emails wanting the next chapter. You are all very groovy, and the doctor loves you! 


	14. Visiting Dreams, Knowledge Unknown

A/N: I suppose I should go ahead and repost a disclaimer, as much as it hurts me to do it. This story is a work of fiction. The characters in A Killer Romance are property of Thomas Harris, aka Hannibal, Clarice, Barney, Chilton, Crawford, Krendler, and so on. I do not make any claim to owning these characters, nor do I make any profit from this story. While the characters are not mine, the idea for this story is my own.  
  
Chapter 14: Mental Visits, Knowledge Abounds  
  
As the first rays of sun shone through the attic's ceiling window, Clarice lay on the bed. Her chest rose gently with each breath. Occasionally, her eyes would flutter quickly, but that was all. She seemed at peace with herself. If only Hannibal could be at peace.  
  
The doctor lay on the leather couch, watching Clarice sleep. Though he did so love to speak with her, it was rewarding to see her so quiet. Her voice was melodious to his ears, but her paced breathing was so calming and sweet. It gave him the silence he needed to think about what had just happened, only a few short hours ago.  
  
Hannibal Lecter, infamous psychiatrist, conniseur and murderer, was in a state of shock. He had just seen his pure and moral Clarice kill another human being. He had done this many times, of course, but it was different now. She had always held fast to her beliefs, what had affected her so greatly to lead to her kill?   
  
Hannibal's thoughts paused momentarily when he heard a hitch in Clarice's breathing pattern. Observing her face, he saw that it wouldn't be long before she awoke. He had, at most, another hour of quiet. Pulling his eyes from her face, he retreated into his mind again.   
  
IN THE MIND OF HANNIBAL  
  
Hannibal entered his Memory Palace. He went into a room with a heavy oak door, stained the color of wheat. The wood was strong, unbreakable even, and the color was so light that it was distinctly female. He turned the brass handle, around which were carved the most beautiful garland. Through this door, he entered the room of Clarice.  
  
He began to walk past the first time they had met, but made himself stop. There she stood in her cheap shoes, looking so anxious, so determined, so hopeful. Was she scared? Was she ever scared of him? He stepped close to her, as the scene of their first meeting played itself in it's majority, omitting the part where Miggs had "bit his wrist." Living through that once was more than enough.   
  
His Clarice of years before was determined. There was no doubt that she was not a cold blooded killer so many years before.  
  
He moved onward ten years, to see footage of her on the news, gunning down the late Evelda Drumgo. Clarice had done her all within her power to keep her finger off the trigger. Her face showed that same determination as it had ten years earlier, but now there was the horrible look of dread, the kind one only sees in the face of a soon-to-be killer. Clarice had not wanted to kill Evelda, but she did what was necessary, and she did what she could to keep herself safe. Even as she shot Evelda, her thoughts were with the child, the baby soaked in it's mother's blood. She cared so much, and received so little in return.  
  
Blinking back the hot rage that radiated through his heart for the pain Clarice felt, he moved on again. This gap in time was filled with newspaper clippings, news footage, and boxes and boxes of pictures. At the end of his media, he stopped again. This was only two years earlier, a date he well remembered. It was the day they kissed in equal love, and not with one of them pinned against a refrigerator.   
  
The green grass was a lovely contrast to the small, light purple lilies scattered along the ground. But Clarice was, as always, the focal point of this natural beauty.  
  
She was walking on the pathway through her neighborhood park, recalled fondly as 'their' park. She wore navy athletic pants, a running sports-bra covered by a loose tank-top, and a tired smile. Her face was not happy, not exactly, but it was comfortable. He could read her thoughts then, at that very moment. He knew she didn't like the work the FBI gave her, he knew she was tired of her life. He knew it, but she didn't. That single bit of knowledge made her all the more beautiful to him.  
  
He studied her as she walked. She wasn't capable of murder then. What had set her off?  
  
He walked a few paces further in his memory, to the end of their kiss. THEIR kiss. Hannibal sighed, as the fated dialogue began. She couldn't be with him, because he was a killer. She was crying so hard, the sobs racked her petite frame. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks flushed, and her hair disheveled. She was so beautiful, even in such pain...  
  
Hannibal stopped. Could this be it? He relieved the memory again. Could this be the moment that caused Clarice to kill? And why? Had he done this to her?  
  
Hannibal's eyes were wide the blow of reality. He retreated from his palace, running out the front door and back into the attic of Barney's house. He felt a solitary tear drying on his cheek.   
  
Hannibal Lecter had driven his only love to become a true murderer.  
  
AT THE SAME TIME, IN THE MIND OF CLARICE  
  
"I AM THE HONEY!"  
  
Clarice pulled a bleeding Paul Krendler into her kitchen. It was slow going, because Paul weighed more than she had expected. She laughed ruefully at the unconscious figure being pulled across her floor. "You know what Paul? You should lose some weight. I think you're going to lose your girlish figure soon... or maybe you're just fat!" She snickered cruelly as she dropped him in the middle of the linoleum.   
  
Clarice looked at her clothing, which remained remarkably unscathed. Clarice didn't know just how dirty her work would be, so she removed her shirt and pants, leaving her clad only in a bra and panties.   
  
Clarice took her clothing into her bedroom, laying them in a pile on her bed. With the familiarity of routine, she found her handcuffs in her top drawer and carried them with her into the kitchen.  
  
She kneeled on the floor in front of Paul, looking around for something secure. She had a small radiator beside the kitchen table, surely that would do. She cuffed his wrist tightly, then placed the other cuff around the radiator.   
  
She laid her face on the floor in front of Paul's bleeding, stump of a nose. She smiled angelically as she whispered to him. "Paul? Hey, Paul, wake up. Paul....?"  
  
That obviously wasn't working. She sat up on her knees and held his uncuffed hand. She slowly brought it closer to the heat of the radiator, whose warmth seemed only to comfort Paul's chilled skin. Sighing with impatience, she placed the palm of his hand flat on the burning hot pipes.  
  
Paul's eyes flew open in pain, as he chortled a thick scream. He pulled his hand from the pipes, sitting up and backing away in one movement. He began to cry as he held his hand to his chest, the other hand on his now coagulating bloody nose.  
  
"What the hell are you doing to me Starling!" His words sounded funny and and high, the result of the absence of an important facial appendage. Clarice laughed at him.  
  
"What am I doing to YOU? Are you serious?" She rose from the floor and opened a drawer beside the sink. From it, she pulled a large knife, then picking up her exacto knife from the floor to hold them side by side. Seeing the tools, Paul sobbed louder. He began making unintelligible noises.  
  
She put down the knives and knelt swiftly, slapping him across his messy face. "Don't you DARE cry Paul. I mean it, if you cry now, I will bite off the part of you that got you here in the first place." With the final sentence, Clarice turned back to the sink to get her knives.   
  
Paul felt the remaining blood drain from his face. Starling had lost her mind, she was going to snap anytime! He fired up his remaining courage, and tried to look intimidating while holding his burned hand and nose gingerly. "You wanted it Starling. You KNOW you wanted it."  
  
Clarice whipped around dangerously from the counter. "YOU PIG. YOU FILTHY FILTHY PIG. If you thought I wanted what you did to me, than I just KNOW you're going to LOVE this." She pushed the exacto knife to its full extension, walking menacingly toward Paul.   
  
Krendler began to whimper. "Starling, look, you're under a lot of pressure. If you stop now, I'll just make sure you're fired. That's all, no police, no record. Just fired Starling..."   
  
Clarice stopped to stare at him as he muttered under his breath. "What did you say Paul?" That damn fool never knew when to shut his mouth.  
  
Paul cowered as far from her as he could, with his one arm still attached to the radiator via handcuffs. "Nothing, I said nothing."  
  
Clarice felt the rage in her whole body. She leapt through the air like a gazelle, landing precisely on his chest, pinning him in an intimate pose. "What...the... HELL... did you say?"  
  
Paul began to shake beneath her. "I- I said- oh, god, you're going to KILL ME!"  
  
Clarice crooked her head to the side in a young and girlish fashion that shouted innocence. "Yes, Paul, I am. So, you should tell me what you said before you die."  
  
Paul's eyes widened as he began to scream. Clarice began to laugh as she stabbed him unmercifully with her knife, over and over again. As Paul's screams slowly died, her laughter turned to tears. By the time she was finished stabbing him, her face was soaked with blood, sweat and tears.   
  
She checked the clock on the wall and saw that she would miss her plane if she didn't hurry. She had one hour until she had to be on her plane, barely enough time to dispose of the body. But before she could rid herself of him forever, she took out the large kitchen knife and began to carve.  
  
LEAVING THE MINDS  
  
Hannibal rose from the couch as Clarice began to stir. He was concerned about her, now that he had figured out why she was so... off-balance. He sat beside her on the bed, waiting for her to become alert.  
  
She slowly opened her eyes, looking about, then into the eyes Hannibal. "Oh... hello Hannibal. What time is it?"  
  
Hannibal ran his hand over her hair, slowly, drinking in the silky texture. "It's early morning. We have much to discuss, my dear. I suggest you rise from your dreams, and I'll make us some mocha coffee. Alright?"  
  
She smiled softly. "Sure, that's good. I'll get up now."  
  
As he turned away, he felt his heart lurch in his chest....  
  
How could he have hurt someone he loved so much?  
  
  
  
A/N: Oh, no! Is Hannibal the reason that Clarice killed Paul? Who is to blame for Clarice's sudden change in behavior? Find out in the next installment of as the world tu-  
  
Oh, sorry, of... A Killer Romance!!!! 


	15. Revalations from Sea to Sea

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. The characters in A Killer Romance are property of Thomas Harris, aka Hannibal, Clarice, Barney, Chilton, Crawford, Krendler, and so on. I do not make any claim to owning these characters, nor do I make any profit from this story. While the characters are not mine, the idea for this story is my own.  
  
Chapter 15: Probing the Depths of Clarice  
  
BARNEY'S ATTIC, PORTUGAL  
  
Hannibal carried two mocha coffee's on a tray to Clarice. She had made the bed, and now sat in the center of the freshly made cover, indian-style and a little more awake. He laid the tray before her on the bed, taking a seat at the very edge.  
  
She laughed as she took her cup. "Hannibal, come on. That's silly, there's plenty of room on this bed. Come on, sit by me." She patted the spot on the other side of the tray.   
  
Hannibal rose from the bed, removing a pair of slippers he had found beside the couch. He had changed while Clarice had slept into a pair of silky lounge pants and matching shirt, both a light chalk color. He climbed onto the bed, taking a seat in the center across from Clarice.   
  
Together they sipped their coffee. Clarice sighed pleasantly. "This is good. You are a good cook, you know that? I think I've told you that."  
  
He smiled humbly. "Actually, I don't believe you have."  
  
She returned his smile. "Well, I'm telling you now. You make a damn fine cup of coffee."  
  
Hannibal tilted his head to the side, but chose not to mention Clarice's poor language. She had been cursing a great deal in the past few hours. He was becoming increasingly worried about her. "Clarice, I need to ask you some questions." He placed his cup on the tray.  
  
She followed his suit, then smiled. "Sure, doc, shoot."  
  
Doc? Shoot? What... "What happened on the plane?"  
  
She gave him A Look that said, 'What a dumb question.' "We met again. You WERE there, weren't you?"  
  
He sighed as he placed the tray on the floor beside the bed. "Don't test my patience Clarice. What happened in the bathroom? Why did you kill that young man?"  
  
Clarice scowled. "He was being very rude. You noticed that, right? He was trying to separate our seats, and for the love of God, he was hitting on you!"  
  
Hannibal frowned slightly at that memory. "Yes, but did those actions warrant his death?"  
  
She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand slowly. "No one will keep us apart again Hannibal. I mean it. No one. Please don't ask anything more about him, he was so insignificant. I just wanted him gone. He was such a stupid distraction from something far more important."  
  
The doctor looked into her eyes and saw such devotion. It made his heart warm with happiness. But there was something else to address here. "All right, I will leave Stephan to rest." He pulled together his old persona of psychiatrist, and began to address his patient. "Had you ever done that before?"  
  
Clarice's eyes went dark. She looked down a fraction, just enough to show submission to Hannibal. "Killed?" she whispered. She looked up again. "Yes."  
  
Lecter battled a startled gasp. He looked at her with his intoxicating eyes. "Tell me who, little Starling. Who did you kill before Stephan?"  
  
She bit her lip at the corner as she answered him. "Do you remember the agent from Justice who worked with me on the Drumgo fiasco?"  
  
Hannibal nodded. He remembered everything. "Yes, a Mr. Krendler."  
  
Clarice nodded. "Him. I killed him."  
  
CRAWFORD'S OFFICE, QUANTICO  
  
Crawford was sitting at his desk, swallowing a hand full of various vitamins and pills. He was waiting for Clarice to call in once she reached her hotel room, so that he could brief on where to make contact with the Lecter informants. He had just finished a drink of water when his phone rang.  
  
Crawford cleared his throat and picked up the phone. "Starling?"  
  
A man's voice answered him. "No, Crawford, it's Pearsell. We've got a situation here."  
  
Crawford straightened immediately. "Brief me."  
  
Pearsell took a deep breath and began. "There were storms raging over Europe last night, diverting most planes to the nearest airports for emergency landing. One plane, Flight 763, landed in the Portugal National Airport, with a body in the restroom."  
  
Crawford's breath caught in his throat. "That's Cla- that's Starling's flight."  
  
Pearsell continued. "I know, Jack, I know. Listen to me carefully, OK? There's no other way to tell you. The body was mutilated beyond recognition, everywhere except the torso. The killer... carved a message into the skin." Pearsell paused. "It said, 'Goodbye Agent Starling. Hello Clarice."  
  
Crawford placed a shaky hand to his forehead. "What...?"  
  
Pearsell took a moment, and continued the news. "Jack, she's gone. I've already checked, and she never made it to her contact. A young woman was seen leaving the restrooms just as the plane landed, matching her description. We have to put out a warrant on her, Jack, now. Before she gets too far."  
  
Crawford felt sick to his stomach. "No... Clint, she wouldn't do... she isn't capable..."  
  
Pearsell was relentless. "I'm going to call it out now, Jack. You wait for me to call you after I report her, OK? Give me ten minutes." He hung up before Jack could protest again.  
  
Jack sat dumbstruck. Not Clarice, she couldn't do something like that. Through the whole Lecter/Drumgo ordeal, Crawford never stopped believing in her. He had to stop giving her good assignments to appease the higher powers, but his faith in her ability and honor never faltered. Crawford knew in his heart that Lecter had kidnapped her, framed her, taken her to.. to... do things to her.  
  
Crawford's eyes began to tear, but before the onslaught that threatened actually began, his secretary burst in his office. Out of breath, she handed him the trash paper, The Tattler. She was crying. "Sir, the paper, look! I don't know how they found out, but just..." She ran back out of the office, crying audibly.  
  
Crawford unfolded the paper and jumped from his chair. The headline read: "FBI OFFICER FOUND IN CONNECTION TO WASHINGTON KILLER!"  
  
What?! Crawford turned the page, ignoring his ringing phone. He scanned the story quickly, his already white face turning a chalky grey.   
  
"Officer Paul Krendler of the FBI Justice Department was found this morning behind the Tattler head office. He had been repeatedly stabbed.......a message on his chest......."  
  
Crawford picked up his phone, barely hearing the person on the other end. "Jack, where the hell were you?! Krendler is dead, and that good for shit tabloid got the story! I've got a field team on it now to find out what happened, but everything checks out. Jack? Jack, are you listening?"  
  
Jack Crawford's eyes were misty as he listened to Pearsell and read the story. It couldn't be... It just couldn't be...  
  
Pearsell began shouting. "Jack! Hey, listen to me. The message on his chest, it matches with the Washington killer. It's Hannibal Lecter, Jack. It must have been a message for Starling, a way to get her to come to him."  
  
Jack's eyes overflowed against his will. "What..." Jack swallowed hard to continue. "What was the message, written on Paul?"  
  
Pearsell said with conviction, "The style matches the earlier murders. This time, though, it's a name. It simply says Hannibal. That's it, carved into Paul's flesh is the word Hannibal."  
  
Crawford used his shaking hand to open the Washington murder file. "Clint, are you at the scene now? Are you on the field phone?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Turn him over, check his back."  
  
Heavy silence was on Crawford's side while Pearsell ordered the forensics officers to do as he had requested. After a moment, Pearsell returned to the phone. "How did you know?"  
  
Pearsell's question qualified the sigh of despair escaping Crawford's lips. "What does it say?"  
  
"It says, no one... hold on..." Pearsell grunted as he read the sloppy carving. "'No one escapes the lambs..."  
  
Crawford laid his heavy head in his hands. "Have you already run the bulletin on Starling?"  
  
"Just a few minutes ago."  
  
"Call it back," Jack ordered. "And add the Washington murders to it."  
  
"What? Jack, how?"  
  
"I can't explain now, just do it, before she gets too far..." With that, Jack disconnected the line.  
  
A/N: Oh, a cliffie! Can you believe it!? Don't be confused, my loves, it will all come together. And just as a side note, one I didn't mention in the summary, Crawford is alive. Oops, my bad, but he is definetly living. OK? Good... Ta~ Fauna 


	16. Fireworks and Explosions

Chapter 16: Fireworks and Explosions   
  
Let us leave poor Jack Crawford to sort out his thoughts, and return instead to a quiet attic in Portugal...  
  
Hannibal sat suspended between an ironic smile and a confused frown. He was, in some deep, menacing part of him, pleased that Clarice had brought an end to Paul Krendler's life. From the few times Hannibal had seen him, he had become decidedly sure that the man was more than incompetent. But then, WHY did Clarice kill Krendler?   
  
Hannibal's mind wandered far away as he remembered the reason that Clarice had been driven over the edge. Inwardly, he sobbed. He felt so much love for this woman, and he had caused her a deep mental anguish. It hurt him to think of what he had done to her; caused feelings that never should have been in her heart and then made her face them without any way to protect her from herself.  
  
Clarice felt the tension in her ribs, tightening with each breath. Hannibal was looking off into the space above her head, deeply lost in his own thoughts. His glazed eyes blinked softly, giving an innocent illusion.   
  
Clarice began to fidget, worrying that Hannibal was upset with her for killing Paul and Stephan. She reached across the space that separated them to touch his knee. "Hannibal? Hey, what's a matter? Are you mad? Hannibal are you mad at me?"  
  
With a mental shake, Hannibal returned from his thoughts to the present. Clarice's voice sounded so... different. It was full of the Virginian twang now, not just the slight hint he'd heard earlier. And her vocabulary was slowly deteriorating to slang. Hannibal felt sure that more was wrong with her than he could have guessed.   
  
He laid his hand across hers, gently stroking it with his finger. He again reverted to his therapist/patient frame of mind. "Clarice, have you felt any different lately?"  
  
She tilted her head over to the side, thinking to herself. "No, I don't think so."  
  
He sighed quietly. After a moment's thought, he decided on a course of action to solve Clarice's problem. "Clarice, can we try something?"  
  
Clarice's eyes flashed with some delicious emotion that Hannibal had never seen: desire. "Like what? What do you want to try?"  
  
Hannibal shook his head softly, wondering why he didn't just take advantage of her state of longing. "Not what you are thinking..." Did she look disappointed when he said that? His pulse jumped higher than it had in years at the thought of what she wanted from him. "Not now, anyway. I'd like to put you under hypnosis. Would that be all right with you?"  
  
Clarice looked aside, studying the pattern of the quilt on the bed. "Why?"  
  
Hannibal tilted her face toward him with his fingers. "Because I need to, so that I can understand something about you. Will you try?"  
  
Clarice rubbed at the blanket with her palm. After a moment, she sighed deeply and said, "Fine, yes, I can try it for a spell."  
  
Hannibal paused again at her word choice: a spell? He assumed she meant a small amount of time, but why did she say that? Hypnosis now seemed necessary to find out what was going on inside her head. "Good. May I use your necklace?"  
  
Clarice looked down at her chest to see her diamond and emerald heart necklace glittering from the sun in the window. "Are you taking it back? I told you I like it..."  
  
Hannibal smiled gently and reached around her to unclasp it. "No, I will not take it. I just want to use it for this exercise. You will have it back soon, I promise."  
  
He felt Clarice's shoulders relax under his forearms as he worked to undo her necklace. She was clearly relieved that she could keep the necklace, and he was glad she liked it so well. With the necklace in hand, he moved to lean back from her, but she was too quick. In a move that Hannibal had never seen nor had he used, Clarice grabbed his arm and pulled up. In less than three seconds, he was flat on his back on the bed, with his attacker on top of his chest.   
  
Hannibal reached up to grab her arm, but her reflexes were remarkably quick. She had his arms pinned above his head with her forearms, causing their faces to be mere inches from contact.  
  
She was breathing fast from the bout of exertion. "Hannibal..." she breathed. "Why don't you want to try now?"  
  
The good doctor was too surprised at her reaction to reply instantly, but recovered in record time. "It's not time for that, we need to talk now." He could feel his excitement growing, contrary to what he spoke aloud. He fought his emotions from surfacing again; he could not risk further mental damage to Clarice, not before he could diagnose what was happening to her.  
  
Using strength that had been abandoned since the last time he had killed, he pushed Clarice off him and onto the pillows of the bed. With a deep growl, he pinned wrists with one hand, grabbing a robe from the end of the bed. He removed the tie from its waist and used it to bind Clarice's hands to the headboard. She struggled as Hannibal held her legs down, to prevent being kicked in the chin.  
  
"Hannibal?! What the hell are you doing?"  
  
Lecter moved from Clarice's legs to look into her eyes. "I am preventing a situation for which neither of us are ready."  
  
She looked at him with mixed fear and annoyance. "We are ready..."  
  
Lowering his eyes to look over her body, he mentally restrained himself. "Trust me, sweet Clarice, we are not. I believe it best if I leave you tied to the bed."  
  
Pouting her bottom lip, Clarice whined softly. "But why?'  
  
Hannibal lightly ran his fingers over her face. "Because...because. Because I said so." As Hannibal gently kissed Clarice on her forehead, he pondered the real reason she had to be restrained.  
  
'Because,' he thought, 'I might not be able to control myself.'  
  
RETURN TO QUANTICO  
  
The FBI building was in a state of chaos. People were running all around, trying to find out if the Tattler's story was indeed the truth. Most of the secretary's were crying, and several representatives from Justice were calling to find out how a gossip paper could know about poor Paul's death before they did. Everywhere within the building, distraught voices took control of the air. Everywhere, except...  
  
Jack Crawford still sat at his desk, eyes misty, hands in a trembling steeple under his chin. Since he had hung up on Pearsell, he had not moved from his chair. The chaos did not reach him from the halls outside his office; he was alone with his own thoughts.  
  
His shaky hand moved from his chin to his forehead, wiping away invisible perspiration. The room was overwhelmingly hot, insanely hot, but he shivered nonetheless. He felt his clammy skin and decided it was time for an asprin, so that he might avoid the headache that was sure to come.  
  
Crawford rattled two tiny pills from the bottles, chewing them dry. He tasted the bitter powder coating his tongue, but did not reach for his water. This was a small form of punishment for himself. 'And if anyone deserves to be punished,' thought Jack, 'I do.'  
  
The acrid, slimy substance sat on his taste buds, the awesome heat of the room beating down on his balding head. The heat reminded him of a hot summer night, the air thick with humidity and sweat. The warm air suffocated his thoughts beneath an old memory, previously removed from conscious thought...  
  
*&*&*&*&*FLASHBACK, ALMOST ONE YEAR EARLIER*&*&*&*&*  
  
The sticky, sweet smell of wet grass hung in the air, though not so pungent as the smell of gunpowder. Jack and Bella's Fourth of July party was well under-way; all the guests invited had come, and the fireworks were starting. Jack walked away from the grill behind his house, removing his "Kiss the Cook" apron as he went, and called to his guests to meet on the deck of their house. The deck had the best vantage point of the firework display.  
  
Walking up the stairs of the deck, he saw Bella sitting on a lounge chair, surrounded by people raving about Jack's hamburgers. A quick scan showed Crawford several fellow agents, a few secretaries, a few people from Justice and Forensics, and... someone was missing.  
  
Jack walked around the crowd of guests on his desk, scanning them again. Yes, someone was definitely missing. Who had he invited? Mary, Sam and Anthony from Forensics, Susie, Tara, Phillip and Kroeler from the secretarial pool, Clint and Barringer from Justice... they were all there. Then his co-workers: Jeremy, Ardelia, Leonard, Jimmy, Clarice... Clarice wasn't there.  
  
Jack went over to Bella, kissing her on the cheek as he bent down. "Hey, Bella. How are you doing? Need anything?"  
  
She smiled sweetly before she kissed his hand and laughed. "No, you've got me covered, Officer Crawford. Isn't this going well? Everyone came!"  
  
Jack smiled, taking a seat at the edge of her chair. "It seems like it. Did you see where Clarice went? I know I saw her earlier."  
  
Bella leaned forward and looked behind her chair, toward the back door. "Yes, I saw her about ten minutes ago. She asked me if she could go inside for a while, so I told her sure, that was fine. Some young man followed her in, I'm sure she's just resting. She looked a little peaked, you know?"  
  
Kissing her forehead, Jack stood from the chair. He hadn't seen any man with Clarice before, but there were many people at the party Jack hadn't talked to yet. She must have brought a date. "Yeah, I know. I'll just run in and get her before she misses the lightshow."  
  
Before he could move toward the house, Bella grabbed his hand. "No, Jack, she's fine. Just let her rest a bit. I'm sure her young friend is capable of taking care of her, just let her be. When she hears us oohing and aahing like fools, she'll probably come out anyway."  
  
Shrugging, he patted her hand. "OK, If you say so-" His sentence was interrupted by the first loud BOOM of the night, as the colored lights flashed in the sky.  
  
About twenty minutes into the fireworks, Clarice hadn't shown up outside yet. Looking over the side of the deck, he saw her beat-up mustang still parked by the side of the house 'Oh, well,' Jack thought, returning his gaze skyward, 'She is definitely still here...'  
  
While Jack was looking up, he heard the back door open. He didn't look back immediately, just waited for Clarice to say hello to him. But she didn't.  
  
Crawford looked back and saw no one beside the door. Instead, he saw the form of a young man walking away from the house, toward a car. Though Jack couldn't make out a face, he saw the man glance back and forth before getting quickly into his car and pulling away.  
  
Jack was confused; was that the young man Clarice came with? Crawford turned to the closest person, Barringer from Justice. "Hey, did you see who just left?"  
  
Barringer turned toward the cars and saw the car leaving. "Aw, yeah, that was Paul."  
  
Jack shook his head. "What? Paul who?"  
  
Barringer grinned a semi-stupid grin. Even though he was a nice enough guy, Jack often wondered how he had made it into the bureau. "Paul Krendler, of course. I told him he could come along, I hope you don't mind."  
  
Jack managed to mumble, "No, that's fine," before retreating to his house.  
  
He opened the door and closed it behind him, muffling the noises of the party on the deck. He looked around the living room and saw no one. He walked down the main hall, glancing in the kitchen as he went. Nothing. The bathroom: nothing. His and Bella's room: nothing.  
  
Jack was wondering if perhaps Clarice was outside somewhere and he just hadn't seen her, when he heard a soft cry from the guest bedroom. He sprinted down the rest of the hall and stopped. It sounded like woman crying.  
  
He knocked softly and opened the door. What he saw both terrified and enraged him....  
  
  
  
A/N: I'd like to apologize now for ending this chapter on a cliffie. I'm sorry.  
  
Well, at least I said it, ya know? Give me some credit! I promise I'll post my next chapter VERY VERY soon! School is out, so there are very few distractions left!  
  
I'd like to take some time now to thank the people who have reviewed this story:  
  
Tibet: Thanks for reviewing my story twelve times! The recommendation is appreciated...  
  
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Meg Binks: If you check my bio page, you will see that there are now three hanfics. Enjoy and thank you!  
  
Chameleon302: How can I thank you enough? With your steady reviews and emails, you helped me out a lot. You are a real sweetie, thank you for being there to cheer me on!!!  
  
Tara: Wow, I hope your need for more has been quenched! Thank you for reviewig, hope you like the cliffie!  
  
Steel: It would've been awesome if Clarice had joined the mile-high club... hmm... another fic, perhaps? Look out for lemons! Thank you for being a constant reader!  
  
luna: I love reviews, that's so fun! You are marvy!  
  
Screaming Lamb: Thank you for your oh so patient reviews!  
  
Kurt: Thank you, Grand Poobah!  
  
Lilyayl: Thank you, dear sister, for your critical reviews. They made me think about the depth of my characters, believe me.  
  
DarkShadow: Thank you for your patience. If you've been keeping up, then you'll know that I am %evil% (yes, sam, the E word), and I haven't been posting regularly. Don't beat me!  
  
Samantha Bridges: Many thanks, my esteemed Lecterphile friend, for your lovely reviews. Is Clarice as evil as your dear Emily? I can only hope.  
  
troesnaja: Thanks for your comments. Your support and criticism kept me on my toes!  
  
Strawberry Lecter: Thank you thank you thank you!!!  
  
Heidi: I'm glad you found enjoyment within my fic, thanks for reading.  
  
angelofnight: Thank you for reading. Once again, the "soap opera" commentary was intentional!  
  
LadyofTruths: Thank you for not considering me to be evil. I am, a little, of course, but thanks for the benefit of the doubt.  
  
Saavik: Many thanks, dear, I hope I can continue to fulfill your reading need.  
  
Applegate: I did not know that Crawford died in the movie. Thank you for informing me.  
  
Nikita: Forgive me for the delay, please, continue reading!   
  
Shattered Mug: I want to apologize for the cliffies, but... I can't help it. My name is Fauna, and I have a problem... Thanks for reading!  
  
Memor Sol Solis: OMG, STOP HITTING YOUR HEAD ON THE KEYBOARD!!! Thank you for enjoying my story, now go take an asprin and lie down... poor dear....  
  
*~*~*BIG HUGS*~*~* TO MY CONSTANT REVIEWERS!!!   
(reviewed more 5 or more times)  
chamleon302  
Nanci  
DianaLecter  
Hannibalover1181  
Tibet  
Steel  
troesnaja  
  
I can't thank y'all enough for sticking with me on this. I hope my story continues to thrill you, and I promise to pick up on some of the other Hanfics (scenarios?..sigh...)  
  
Love to all who love lecter~  
Fauna 


	17. Hypnotic Memories

Chapter 17: Hypnotic Memories  
  
Jack was wondering if perhaps Clarice was outside somewhere and he just hadn't seen her, when he heard a soft cry from the guest bedroom. He sprinted down the rest of the hall and stopped. It sounded like woman crying.  
  
He knocked softly and opened the door. What he saw both terrified and enraged him....  
  
As the door creaked open, he heard the woman gasp. A woman with red, puffy eyes and messy hair lay on the guest bed, covered by a sheet. Her eyes were wide with fear, eyes she quickly hid within her hands.  
  
Jack stood stunned, staring at this woman he couldn't recognize.  
  
This woman was Clarice Starling. Laid on a bed, mangled and beaten, was Clarice.  
  
Jack stood for what seemed like hours in the doorway, his hand on the knob, his mouth slightly ajar. All the while, she sat with her face buried in her hands, her whole body shaking with sobs. Finally, she looked up.  
  
"Jack? Please... close the door," she choked between her tears.  
  
He immediately stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. Hesitantly, he walked over to the bed. "Clarice...? I... well... what happened?"  
  
Clarice angrily sat up in bed, the sheet wrapped tightly around her. She pushed a hand through her tangled hair with an incensed sigh. "Look at me Jack. I mean it, look at me! What do you think happened?"  
  
Jack sat at the edge of the bed while she seethed. He didn't know what to make of the situation. He was angry, furious that something had happened to her, but he didn't know what to do. Instead of taking any action, he waited for her to calm down. "Clarice..." He reached over the cover to clasp her hand. "I can't help you until I know what happened. Please, you need to tell me."  
  
Clarice allowed herself to slowly lean against the headboard. After taking several deep breaths, she began to talk. "I asked Bella if I could go in for awhile. I had a headache, I needed to lie down, or even be alone for a short time. I sat in the living room for a few minutes when.... when he came in. He said he wanted to talk, but I told him I wasn't feeling well. I excused myself to lie down in here..." She began to cry again, softly this time. "He followed me in. He... he.... he wouldn't leave. We fought, he hit me- I fell on the bed and he- he just-" Whatever Clarice intended to say was lost in her tears as her words slurred into unrecognizable mumbles.  
  
Jack felt fury building deep within him. "Who was it? Who followed you?"  
  
Through her racking sobs, he managed to understand only two words: Paul Krendler.  
  
&*&*&*&*&*&END FLASHBACK&*&*&*&*&*&  
  
He couldn't remember anymore. Wouldn't remember anymore.  
  
Jack's phone was ringing again. It was undoubtedly Pearsell, the main person with whom he didn't want to talk. Wiping his forehead with a handkerchief, he stood from his desk. He gathered his belongings into his briefcase and walked out of his office.  
  
As he went through the crowds of crying secretaries and the mechanical buzzings of the office, he could think only one thing:  
  
"I hope they never find you, Clarice..."  
  
^%RETURN TO PORTUGAL%^  
  
Hannibal pulled a chair to the side of the bed while Clarice struggled with her bindings, cursing and hissing at being restrained. He was convinced in his psychologically sound mind that he was no longer dealing with the Clarice he had fallen in love with, but with a shell of her former self. Something was dreadfully wrong with her, and he had every intention of finding out what it was.  
  
He let the necklace hang from his fingers to dangle in front of her. "Clarice, please cooperate. I don't want to sedate you, but if that remains the only option, I won't hesitate." He watched with satisfaction as her body relaxed, only occasionally pulling at her binds.  
  
"That's fine, thank you. Now I need you to concentrate for this to work. I need you to listen to me. Will you do that for me, Clarice?"  
  
She pulled a final time on one of her bindings and gave in with a sigh of defeat. "Yes. And then you'll untie me?"  
  
"Yes, I will," he promised. He began to swing the necklace slowly from side to side until it feel into a hypnotic rhythm. He waited until her eyes focused only on the emerald and diamond pendant before he began talking.  
  
"Watch the pendant closely, Clarice.   
Watch as it sways, slowly, slowly...  
Your eyes begin to grow heavy as you watch;  
You're getting sleepy.  
Your breathing becomes slower,  
Your heart becomes slower.  
Your eyelids are heavy;  
You can't keep them open any longer.  
Your eyes close; you are asleep."  
  
At his final word, Clarice's body relaxed completely, surrendering to sleep. Hannibal sat back in his chair and placed the necklace in his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he began.  
  
"Can you hear me Clarice?"   
  
She nodded slightly, eyes closed.  
  
"Can you speak?"  
  
"Yes." There was no thick Virginian accent anymore, only the hint that it had always been.  
  
"Good. We are going to go back in time, Clarice. Let's go back fifteen years in your life: what are you doing?"  
  
"I'm training to be an FBI agent."  
  
"Where are you right now?"  
  
"The range."  
  
"The gun range?"  
  
"Yes. We're practicing sharpshooting."  
  
Hannibal grinned slightly. He would not have imagined Clarice's memory to be of guns. But, the point of hypnosis was for her to recall the most important memory of the day . Obviously, that was the most important thing that had happened that day. "Leave the gun range." He thought for a moment before proceeding. "Let's go forward a few days and visit Jack Crawford instead. Where are you?"  
  
Clarice's lips widened into an ambitious smile. "In his office."  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Talking."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"He needs me to see someone for him."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Her smile now turned into a smug grin. "Hannibal Lecter."  
  
Hannibal mimicked her expression. "Why do you think he's sending you instead of a REAL agent?"  
  
"Because... probably because I can evoke a warmer feeling from the prisoner than a male could. Or because I am well spoken." Her smile faded slightly. "Or maybe because he thinks I have nice legs."  
  
Hannibal's eyes twinkled at Clarice's comment. No doubt old Jackie-boy had liked her legs; they were quite nice. How auspicious of her to notice his attraction. "Let's leave Jack. Where do you go after your meeting?"  
  
Her smile was almost completely gone now, replaced by a serious depth. "The dungeon."  
  
"Who is in the dungeon?"  
  
"Dr. Lecter."  
  
"Do you see him?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Hannibal paused. Should he proceed with this questioning? He already knew what happened, it wasn't like he needed to know the story from her point of view.   
  
But he did.  
  
"What do you think of him?"  
  
She also paused. "He... he's very smart. He's analyzing me while I speak to him."  
  
"How does he make you feel?"  
  
"Scared."  
  
This was not the reaction for which he had hoped. "Scared of what?"  
  
"Of what he says."  
  
"Are you afraid of him?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"He's not scary. He's intelligent and controlled, which can be confused with intimidation. But he's not trying to intimidate me."  
  
"What is he doing?"  
  
"Helping me."  
  
"With what?"  
  
"The case. Myself...."  
  
Hannibal let out a breath he didn't know he had held. He himself had been scared; scared that Clarice was EVER frightened of him. Not that he hadn't given her reason to be, at times, but she knew him better then any other person. With a tiny smile, Hannibal moved on.  
  
"Alright, Clarice, let's leave the dungeon. Instead, let's go forward ten years." He thought a moment. "Let's go to July 4th of 2001. Where are you?"  
  
Her face screwed up with concentration as she remembered. Her face paled slightly. "I'm... pinned."  
  
Hannibal leaned forward in his chair. "Pinned? How are you pinned?"  
  
"I'm against a refrigerator. My hair- its stuck."  
  
Hannibal's baby teeth gleamed in the dim light of the room. "What are you wearing?"  
  
Her cheek's flushed with color as she spoke. "A black dress. It's very... revealing."  
  
"Do you like it?"  
  
She smiled. "It's not really my style, but its very beautiful. Yes, I like it."  
  
"What's happening?"  
  
Clarice's eyes were rolling frantically beneath their lids. "I- he's asking me a question..."  
  
"Who is?"  
  
"Dr. Lecter."  
  
This earned another smile from the doctor. Always so respectful, even when her emotions were filled to the brim. They both knew the question she was being asked, and Hannibal wouldn't ever dare to ask her in such a vulnerable state. That was an answer that she had to give him of her own free will. Or, in actuality, an answer she needed to explain to him.   
  
He was satisfied that she was completely hypnotized and willing to speak. Now that he had tested her, he decided she needed a break before they got deeply involved in an analysis. "Let's leave this place. You'll wake at the snap of my fingers in five, four, three, two..."  
  
  
  
A/N: All for now my little tenderloins. Prepare for the apacolypse that is chapter 18!  
I simply can't wait to end this, Han deserves a well needed vacation... Ta~ Fauna 


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